


Nephalem Quartermaster

by Foodmoon



Series: Oddball fics [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alec has anger issues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Backhanded crack, Bond tries to be charming and fails hard, Burns, Demonblood Quartermasters, Demons and Angels and Fae oh my, Gen, M/M, Master/Pet, Mentioned violence, Minor Violence, Powers/Abilities, Q is not fully human, Read at Your Own Risk, Various wounds, he's bad at it, implied pre-slash, mentioned death, q tries to be nice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-17 22:36:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foodmoon/pseuds/Foodmoon
Summary: In which MI-6 gets a new Quartermaster and it proves to be an unexpected problem for the 00s. And MI-6 has some extremely strange hiring policies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Nephalem:** Demon/angel hybrids, demon/nephilim hybrids, or other creatures of similar makeup
> 
> The weirdest part is that I didn't have to make up that term, apparently it's a trope.

They all know that being chosen as the current Quartermaster’s pet is a possibility. It is MI-6 policy, because most Quartermasters are at least part-demon of differing varieties. They have to agree to it when they join MI-6, because good Quartermasters are much harder to replace than mere agents, even 00s. But in general, the Quartermaster chooses some low level office worker, someone in Q branch, or occasionally a low level agent.

Unfortunately, there is a new Quartermaster and this one is being picky. All twelve of the 00s had been called in from the field and are now lined up in a slightly angry row for his inspection.

The slender man with dark wavy hair refuses to look up. “I said _‘No’_. I am not a demon, this is entirely unnecessary. Go away.”  
  
None of them move.

Finally James _(because he is the charming one, okay? And the others are divided between staring at him significantly and studying their newest and rather strange Quartermaster)_ clears his throat. “You do realize that MI-6 will not give up on this don’t you? You need to pick someone.”

“No, I do not.”

“Yes, you bloody well do! We’ve got orders that none of us are allowed back out in the field until you pick someone. Do you know how many operations that have been years in the making are going to be shot to hell if you don’t pick someone quickly?” And, okay, that isn’t actually charming, more like bludgeoning, but-

The Quartermaster still does not look up, but he stops writing answers into his crossword puzzle. “Iceni folk hero?”

“Boudicca.” He answers automatically, then tries a more polite tactic. “I’m sorry you don’t like it, but you still need to choose-”

“Fine.” The young man looks up, revealing blue eyes that glint green in a way that makes James doubt the _‘not a demon’_ claim behind glasses with frames dark enough they almost match his hair. “You. Whoever you are. Fill out this form and file it with M.” He searches a little then pushes a paper that has scribbles all over the back that range from math formula to horrid sketches of cats, over to the front edge of his desk. “At least you’re smart enough to answer crosswords, so I suppose you’ll do. Now go away. All of you.”

James freezes in shock. The other 00s start filing out as he just stands there. Alec finally picks up the paper and pushes James out of the room. He remains in shock as Alec fills out the form for him, then huffs and hands it to him. “Come, James, I filled it out for you, but he did order you to turn it in to M. I will come with you.”

Numbly, he walks to M’s office, vaguely aware that Alec runs interference with the secretary so they are allowed in. He sets the paper on M’s desk. She picks up the form and scans it, brows lifting. “Is this correct?”

“Yes, M.” Alec replies and James nods dazedly.

“Well, this is a bit unexpected, but I approve. Two of you should balance him nicely, and you two will have to work harder at coming back actually intact. Demons are quite touchy about their property being damaged.” She puts the form in a drawer and pulls two square, flat boxes out of a drawer and slides them over. “Fortunately, there was a mix-up in the order and we received two. You’ll need to have him put them on you with his own hands.”

“He said he was not a demon, though?” Alec asks.

“Technically that is correct. He is a Nephalem. The son of a demon and a Nephilim woman with a rather high percentage of Fae on her human side. I understand that it’s a rather troubled home and he doesn’t like to talk about it.” M folds her hands together and beams at them. “He claims to have gotten only the worst of all inheritances. Curiosity and the endless drive to satisfy it from his human blood, angelic wrath, a Fae’s heartlessness, and a demonic fascination with seeing people suffer for their mistakes. I’m certain you can see why we hurried him into a contract when the previous Quartermaster decided to retire.”

“Quite a find for MI-6.” Alec agrees, putting the boxes in James’ hands and hustling him out the door.

Alec has him almost back to the Quartermaster’s office before James’ brain decides enough shock is enough and comes back online somewhat. “Alec? You put your name down too?”

“Of course. What is mine is yours and what is yours is mine. Yes? It has been this way for years. So if he is to be your demon, he will be mine too.”

“Wait. You think this is a good thing?”

Alec shrugs. “It is not a bad thing to have a Quartermaster who is personally invested in us returning alive. You’re just upset because you didn’t realize his question was an interview.”

James is still sputtering when Alec opens the door and pulls him inside.

~

Q doesn’t glance away from his computer screen as the door opens, just sips his tea. He notes the sound of two pairs of footsteps, though. When two boxes with their lids removed, revealing slim collars within, are set on his desk, though, he deigns to give the intruders his attention.

“Two of you? I’m certain I only sent one to M.”

The darker blond smiles charmingly at him. “That is what happens when you have someone else fill out forms for you.”

He raises a brow at the gall. “M decided I needed more choice?”

“No, of course not. We are both registered as yours.”

Annoyed, he sets down his tea a little harder than he should and stands. “Fine. Let us get this over with, shall we? Kneel.”

Surprisingly, it is Bond _(yes, he knows who they are)_ who goes down with the least resistance, Trevelyan’s eyes widening for a moment before he hastily joins him in obedience. Still riding the wave of annoyance, Q fastens the slim collars around their throats with efficient movements, then uses a dab of power on both to seal them to him, watching as the collars change to sight, going thin and flexible and skin colored, blending in so they’re hard to spot or even feel. Leaving nothing to easily endanger his agents, yet making them impossible to remove by any other hand than his.

His agents indeed.

The annoyance is replaced by a deep, dark, possessive satisfaction. He pats their heads in approval and goes back to his tea and the code he was perusing before they came in. It’s almost an hour before R wanders in and asks if the agents don’t have somewhere else to be and Q remembers he hasn’t dismissed them.  
  
He makes a shooing motion. “Go on, get food or whatever you need to do. M will assign missions as normal.”

They look puzzled and move a bit stiffly when they get up, but go without protest. He makes a mental note to check with Medical to see if he needs to give them a good healing. Or maybe fix his mother’s computer again in exchange for getting her to do it. He shudders at the thought. _Honestly!_ If one went solely by what they managed to do with their computers, one would think his mother was the demon, not his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a mental image of Bond being forced to kneel beside Q's desk between missions as a punishment and having no say in the matter. And wearing a collar. So now there's a fic to explain it. Sorry/not sorry.
> 
> Q still drinks Earl Grey. He comes from a home with difficult parents who have epic fights but are still happily together. He struggles with his rather mercurial nature at times.
> 
> And ugh, my muse has gone darkside today and decided this 'verse needs a bit more. Does anyone want to read more or should I just keep the rest to entertain myself?


	2. Q is Annoyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is not pleased with James' definition of 'intact' in regards to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more, but I need a nap before I finish writing it. Disregard the 'finished' bit for now.
> 
> Mostly random, only a slight effort to follow cannon in any form. More effort is being put into keeping darkside muse from totally jumping the track and being full-on crazy train. Dammit, muse.

It doesn’t take Q long to realize that Alec is more practical than James, and that he accepted the collar not because of any desire to be a pet, but because he was afraid Q would break James if he wasn’t there as well. To be honest, the observation makes him quite proud of Alec. No, he hadn’t wanted a pet, much less two, but there’s no reason not to be proud of his agents now that they are his. It’s not a reversible thing, after all. And Alec is right. There is something indefinably fragile about James.  
  
Alec will sometimes defy him face to face, if he thinks it’s in James’ best interest. James on the other hand doesn’t seem to be able to at all. _(On the comms is a different matter. The man is impossible in the field.)_ He’ll freeze up sometimes when faced with an order or sometimes a gesture from Q, and only come back to the touch of Alec’s hand on his arm or shoulder. Q knows himself well enough to know he would have pushed that without Alec in the equation. But with Alec there, he can force himself to refrain. He knows better than to seduce James, though. It would be too easy. James is used to doing what he has to for work, and some part of him regards Q _(not unreasonably)_ as part of work. It would be a mistake. It’s important that James never conceive the notion that Q is someone he can outsmart and overpower or destroy. Q has seen the possessive side of both his parents and he knows that he’s inherited that from both equally. James is too fragile to survive that kind of aftermath.  
  
He really doesn’t know what MI-6 was thinking when they waved a contract in front of his nose and fast talked him into signing it. _(Granted, he’d been hungover on faerie wine at the time or he’d have insisted on reading it more thoroughly and making changes to it.)_ They never took Āglæca as Quartermasters, the half demon blood making them too powerful and too dangerous to be fully trusted. And yet. They had practically scammed him into agreeing.  
  
As a Nephalem, he is even more powerful than a full demon or angel of the same types. Not to mention that his Fae ancestry gave him the ability to realm walk into more dimensions than even angels or demons put together could access. There’s a reason he has no qualms renting a tiny, cheap apartment. The inside is much, much larger than it should be, and far more secure than the outside suggests.  
  
Given his temperament, _he_ wouldn’t trust him in charge of their most valuable assets. Granted, he is shit in a physical fight, but he could pull down Wrath like nobody’s business, both Holy and Demonic, and given ten minutes and some random components he could contrive a viable bomb. Even if he had to resort to filling it with magic instead of explosives. He was also hacker enough to give R a run for her money on a good day. R might be able to make them practically sit up and beg, but there were very few computers in the world with firewalls good enough to keep R out and with enough arcane warding to keep Q out. And even fewer with both.  
  
M, in particular, had been unworried about him turning down every possible pet sent his way, and seemed more than a little pleased that two of her precious 00s now belonged to him. He rather suspects she set him up. Maybe she doesn’t care if he breaks them, as long as they come back from missions alive and functional?  
  
They will come back alive and functional. He may be rather terrible at the healing others bit for a Nephalem because of his Fae blood, but the pet contract has a lot in common with demon thrall or Fae thrall _(other than being legally and actually more durable, and less thrall-y),_ and it comes with its own automatic protections. Bullets and knives that miss just enough, poisons that don’t work quite as intended, things like that. Q has added a few of his own deliberate protections of course, though he hasn’t told them. If they haven’t figured out on their own that he has, well that’s their own little bastion of ignorance. True, others _around_ them may not survive if his protections activate, but his pets will. By hook or by crook. And once they get back to him, he can keep them alive long enough to get them to his mother if needed, after which they will be perfectly functional.  
  
And if they’re too injured to get back to him, well then, he can open _doors_ and go fetch them back. Warzones are not much danger to him short term. Harming him severely is nigh impossible. It would require a fair bit of crude iron and powerful spells mixed to nullify both his demon and angel powers, used together to mortally wound or kill him.  
  
Still, giving him access to MI-6 isn’t the brightest thing, in his opinion. By giving him the Quartermaster position, they’ve given him _power_ inside their bastion and now they’ll never be able to keep him from just waltzing in if he likes. He usually comes the way the others do, but that’s only to make the guards feel like they’re doing their jobs properly. There’s no way they can do anything about him now that his office door is enchanted to be a _door._ But that’s their problem, really, not his.  
  
No, his problem is the _really very stupid_ agent who has _yet again_ come back bruised and beat all to hell because he let himself be distracted by a woman at the wrong moment, and got her killed into the bargain so he’s all hangdog mopey about life on top of it. Not that he’s showing it, of course. James is the master of the Game Face and is pretending that he is his normal arrogant and fearless self. The man _is,_ of course, fearless in the face of physical danger. But since the result is unnecessary damage to _his property,_ Q is less than impressed.  
  
“I see you have your usual disregard for my equipment budget, Bond.” He says mildly, and lets R take away the tray of mangled remains. Then his tone shifts to something more dangerous. “James, do you recall what I said to you before you left?”  
  
The blue eyes flicker and now there’s a hint of worry about the edges as the agent repeats verbatim, “Bring yourself back intact, James.”  
  
“Is there a _good_ reason you disregarded that order, James?” He wants to call him ‘pet’, but this is still work, so there are limits no matter how angry he currently is.  
  
Confusion flits through the blue eyes briefly. “I’d say no broken bones, serious bullet wounds, or missing parts is relatively intact.”  
  
“I see.” What he sees is that James’ definition of ‘intact’ is seriously warped. He bites out distinctly, so the order cannot be misconstrued even by his _really very stupid_ agent, “Fetch me some Earl Grey. Cream, no sugar. That is an order, James.”  
  
James’ lips compress in annoyance, but he snaps off a salute and doesn’t hesitate to go do just that.  
  
Q retreats to his office.  
  
When the agent arrives with his tea, Q sips it, then nods and points at the dark blue kneeling pad beside his chair. And James is a bit puzzled, but he comes around the desk without question before seeing it and comprehending. He sinks to his knees like it’s as natural as breathing for him, looking a bit lost. Q wishes briefly that Alec were here. But this is what he has to work with for the moment. He could have created the kneeling pad easily enough of course, but instead this one is a bit lopsided and the seam-work is messy. Sewing is not Q’s best skill, but created items have a way of disincorporating themselves at inconvenient times, and the kneeling cushion is stuffed with silky grey, black, and white feathers that will never crush down unpleasantly. _(Q has a habit of collecting his parents’ and siblings’ discarded feathers as well as his own because they occasionally come in handy.)_ His agent’s knees are well-protected. And Q needs to calm down before he explains the man’s stupidity to him.  
  
“Excellent tea, James.” He compliments and opens his half-finished book of crosswords. At the very least, the man can use his otherwise fine mind for something useful. It truly amazes him that a man that cannot grasp the concept of self-preservation can keep so much trivia in his head with no effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(Pictures a wide bolt of pure power smashing down on some unfortunate recipient of Q's Wrath, black and white, twisting and crackling around the edges with green Fae magic.)_
> 
> _doors_ are not physical doors so much as shortcuts to other places or planes. They may be constructed in physical doorways for convenience, however.
> 
> Q is pretty much an OP character. Believe it or not, I'm taking this from the online definition of a Nephalem and toning it down a fair bit. He's acutely aware of his own failings (most of the time), even the ones that others may consider attributes.
> 
> Āglæca: Because I realized I'd accidentally used Nephilim to describe half demons and the only word that didn't automatically make a half-demon a force of indescribable evil that I could find was Cambion, which is a little too specific to one type of demon parent, I went digging into descriptions of Grendel. The word āglǣca means: _(adj.) formidable, awe-inspiring; (noun) an awesome or formidable opponent, ferocious fighter._ So, anyways, I'll be using Āglæca as the word for half-demons, like Nephilim is for half-angels.


	3. James is Baffled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q calms down while James is generally just baffled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May or may not be added to. Muse is being uninformative at the moment.

James does not understand Q. At all. He doesn’t understand why the half-demon is angry at him. Even Medical won’t complain much about his condition this time around. Sure, he got beat up a bit, and he has a couple bullet grazes and some cuts, but nothing serious. What he _does_ know is that when Q goes from angry to tea and crosswords, he’s beyond angry to outright furious.  
  
So he doesn’t know why he’s kneeling, still dirty and bloodied, the cut on his forehead still trickling blood now and then, on the insanely comfortable pillow in Q’s office. But he _does_ know better than to move when Q is in this mood. Better than to even _try._ Whatever Q is mad about this time, about James’ injuries, it won’t stop him from punishing James for disobedience. It’s only happened once, but once was more than enough.  
  
James has taken full on punches from full demons that hurt less. Q is, not so much _stronger_ than he is _more_ than he looks. The backhand had _hurt_ and left him dazed, but somehow done no physical damage. Even Alec is impressed by that backhand _(though he’s braved it more times),_ and goes still and quiet when Q breaks out the crosswords in the middle of a temper. But it’s not so much the backhand as the disappointed tone that follows it that makes James cringe to his marrow at the idea of a repeat.  
  
For some reason, whether it’s the pet contract or something weak and craven deep inside him, James can’t stand Q’s disappointed voice. It makes him want to crawl and beg for forgiveness. The half-demon knows it too. He knows that he could reduce James to a mewling thing that his many _(and mostly dead)_ enemies wouldn’t recognize. Instead, Q turns to tea and crosswords. His control is somewhat frightening, if one is objective _(or even if they aren’t)._ And James knows this is why MI-6 had wanted Q badly enough to break their unwritten rule of not hiring half-demons into administrative positions. James knows better than anyone Q’s control. Even Alec. He’s watched as Q has toyed with Alec, as he’s pulled back with exquisite timing every single time without pushing Alec past his limits, something he shouldn’t even be able to spot without knowing Alec far better than he does. But he always does. He always holds back. Q never tries to break them.  
  
And he doesn’t often get upset over trivial things. So James doesn’t understand why Q is angry with him, but he can trust that he has a good reason for it.  
  
Probably. He still doesn’t know why Q took him and Alec to visit his parents. Even if his mother had decided to _‘heal them properly’_ and he’s felt a lot less creaky ever since. Alec had noted the difference too. James isn’t afraid of Q’s father. He’s just a demon, albeit a full blooded one, after all. But he’s not so sure about Q’s mother. She’s a little…unnerving.  
  
Alec was of the opinion that he took them there to be healed, James coming down on the side of Q taking them there just to see if they’d react. But when they’d worked up the nerve to ask him why he’d taken them to visit his parents, he’d blinked at them blankly, like a sleepy cat, and had merely replied, “Did I?” as if the entire incident had skipped his mind completely. So now they are torn between their original opinions and simple bafflement over the possibility that it was a Fae-like whim with no meaning that Q can’t even recall indulging.  
  
It’s simple reflex that has him leaning back to avoid a knee to the nose as Q spins his chair unexpectedly so he is facing James, legs spread so that James is bracketed. “You really don’t understand why I’m angry, do you?”  
  
James shakes his head and swallows as he tries to ignore the unanticipated view.  
  
Q sighs, a beleaguered sound.  
  
“I don’t suppose that explaining something that you are not willing to wrap your head around will do any good, so we’ll do it this way.” Q holds out his hands until his palms gather white light with flecks of black, red, gold and green swirling through it, then leans forward and presses the light against the still sluggishly bleeding wound on his forehead.  
  
The result is pain that makes James flinch back involuntarily; it’s at least three times the amount of pain the wound itself was giving him even to begin with.  
  
Q tsks. “Hold still, James.”  
  
He obeys but objects, “If you want me healed that badly, you could just take me to your mother. At least it wouldn’t _hurt.”_  
  
“Why would I do that? That would involve fixing her computer, _again._ And would entirely miss the point. If you’re going to be insistent on getting yourself harmed unnecessarily, then you will have to suffer me healing you. Every. Single. Time.”  
  
“You knew I was a double O agent when you chose me.” James does not pout or whine, _he doesn’t,_ but he knows he’s very close to doing so now.  
  
“Yes, you are. But James, you manage to come home with twice as many wounds as any other living 00, including Alec, on average. Which means you are being reckless with your safety.”  
  
_“Living_ agent.” James emphasizes. “That just means I’m the best because I get out alive where others don’t.”  
  
Q sighs again. “Yes, you do seem to have an uncanny ability to cheat death. Nevertheless, _pet,_ until you understand my point, I will be healing you.”  
  
James curses as Q inexorably moves his hands down over his face, throat, shoulders, chest and belly, then down over his arms before getting up and moving around to get his back. Every cut, bruise, scrape and puncture flares with unutterable pain before fading to a low throb. Q even gets the bullet graze on his hip before relenting. He delicately wipes the involuntary tears of pain from James’ lashes with his thumbs.  
  
_“Do_ be more careful with my things, James.” He chides and sits again, swiveling to face his computer and get on with whatever task he’s been putting aside to deal with crosswords and James.  
  
It’s hard to think, and the only thing crossing his mind is that Medical will be happy and Alec was right, because Q had apparently _paid_ his mother to heal them. James gives up and leans his head against the side of the chair. It’s inconceivable that someone with Q’s temper can _heal,_ but somehow the breath-stealing pain that accompanies it makes perfect sense. He wishes that the fact that Q’s disappointment hurts worse made sense, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James is using the term half-demon because it's letting him quantify both Āglæca and Nephalem at the same time. Without having to sort out that _'Nephalem are (usually) Āglæca, but Āglæca aren't necessarily (or often) Nephalem'_ thing.


	4. Alec, Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec contemplates Q and life and bad decisions while on his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, um. Happy Valentine's Day? (I just noticed. Dunno how valentiney this is, but what have you? lol)
> 
> Muse seems to like this story. So for now I'll take off the 'finished' tag.

Alec… Alec never had any intention of becoming any Quartermaster’s pet. He’d always thought of himself as better and smarter than that. God knows his witch great-grandmother certainly had words about the fools who made contracts with demons or became demon-thralls. But then the new Quartermaster had gone and chosen Bond of all people, and Alec was stupid about Bond. He did stupid things when Bond was around. It was amazing that they both made it out alive on missions together. He was stupider about James. _(Isn’t he still working for bloody England because of the blasted man?)_ So when Q chose Bond, and it pushed him over the line from Bond to James, Alec committed the ultimate stupidity and signed his life away to a demon in order to stay with his friend.  
  
To begin with, when Q first began his game of biting at Alec’s neck and running his hands familiarly over him, he was…angry. It’s something that a lot of people don’t understand about Alec. Under his insouciance and competence, he’s angry. He runs on anger a lot of the time. It’s fuel to him. Bond may get off on the adrenaline fueled spikes of seducing the girl, getting the information, and diving headlong into a firestorm and coming out relatively unscathed. But for Alec? It’s deeper, darker, a fine rage against those who would destroy the lives of others for mere profit or vanity, a malicious satisfaction at seeing them go down squalling in their impotence or merely too dead to regret their sins. He _enjoys_ destroying England’s enemies. It soothes the fury within that never quite sleeps.  
  
So, yes, he’s angry. He doesn’t quite fight, but he _resists._ He’s angry at Q, even though he has never said _‘no’,_ never tried to verbally draw that line. Alec is grateful that Q seems to see through his ploy to protect James and accordingly leaves him be for the most part, but he resents that he’s being used as a toy in James’ stead.  
  
Until he realizes. Q isn’t trying to break James, but he isn’t trying to break Alec either. Instead, he’s deliberately angering Alec and backing off, over and over, until it wears down his anger to a weary burn that lets Alec relax and sleep well. He’s not forcing James to watch him break Alec in his stead, no, instead, he’s making sure that James sees that he’s _not_ breaking Alec. And that… that is smart. James is no good at taking words at face value. He’s much, much better with demonstrations.  
  
So Alec… Alec finds he’s actually _okay_ with belonging to Q, with being his pet, with having _James_ be his pet too. Impotent anger at Q becomes _directing_ his anger at Q to let him wear it out. He has no illusions that Q does not enjoy doing so. It’s quite obvious that he does. But he never goes further. Never tries to break _Alec,_ just enjoys breaking down his anger, breaking down the nervous energy and the nightmares it inspires. The only bits about Alec that he’s insistent on breaking are the bits that actually could be construed as harming Alec on their own. It works better than any so-called therapy, better on occasion than even sending the deserving to hell where they belong.  
  
It’s weird, it defies all common sense, but Alec trusts Q. With his life, with his nightmares which nothing else really manages to dim, with _James_ who is closer than family to him. A Nephalem isn’t a creature who should be trusted. Despite the angelic blood, they’re still Āglæca, still half-demon and prone to those darker hungers, still creatures that have brought down empires on whims throughout history and only more powerful for their holy abilities mixing with their unholy ones. Rasputin had been recorded in history as Āglæca, but his great-grandmother had seen the man once in her youth, and she swore up and down, always with a tremor in her voice, that the man was a Nephalem. Either way, Āglæca are Āglæca and should not be trusted. No one disputes that.  
  
But Alec? Alec can’t help but trust Q. Q is Q, not some abstract; he’s even trusted them enough to take them to meet his slightly terrifying parents. Alec still doesn’t know which is more terrifying: The Fae-blood Nephilim who doesn’t seem to care her husband is a demon? Or the demon who is still madly in love with her after several centuries and children?  
  
He knows which James would choose, but James is still under the noble misimpression that the females are not the deadlier of any species, so he’s unnerved when they show behavior that hints at that. Frankly, Alec is not convinced that a demon who can survive the affections of a Nephilim with a Fae’s general sense of morality for over a century isn’t the more terrifying one. It’s a toss-up, really. But still, Q has shown them his vulnerable underbelly. The Quartermaster can’t be so naïve as to think that either of them _couldn’t_ devise ways to take out both parents and the resident siblings. They are both 00s for a reason. He’d done it deliberately. There’s no way he doesn’t know how much trust means to both of them. That he doesn’t know how much _parents_ mean to them. No way it wasn’t an offer, though… of what Alec isn’t quite sure. It’s not something he’s been quite able to put into words. And James is still being bloody stubborn about thinking it a meaningless whim.  
  
Alec shifts in his plane seat, raises a hand to wipe his brow, but then drops it in annoyance without completing the gesture. This time Q is going to be furious at _him_ for getting himself injured. Getting his face slammed down on a demon-flame heated griddle was not one of his best moments.  
  
The doctors think he’ll keep most of his vision in that eye, but he’ll be scarred for life. Even Nephilim or full Angels won’t be able to do much with it, due to the demon-flame as the cause. So he’s pretty sure Q is going to hit the roof. But he doesn’t care. He just wants home, and James. And Q. He wants to be somewhere it is safe to lick his wounds and recover.  
  
And he will be.  
  
In just 6 more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, that moment, you check the wiki and realize what you thought was (awesome) cannon is actually fannon and it might need an explanation. So, my thought is James had one of his freeze-up freak outs just a couple days before Alec went through with his plan to 'die' and become Janus, and by the time he managed to get him out of it, Alec couldn't bring himself to leave James behind. Thus didn't go through with his plan and still works for MI-6. (handwaves it a bit)
> 
> Alec's great-grandmother was a witch. She died when he was still young, not long before he lost his parents. In cannon, he was 6 when his parents died, but I think I'll have him being about 8 at the time of events in this one. Old enough to grasp that the well-being of people you love is more important than revenge for people you've lost.
> 
> Q is neither the eldest, nor the youngest of his siblings by any means. I'm not sure how many siblings he has, but his parents are old enough that he's probably lost at least a couple older siblings he's too young to have known or remembered. Nephalem may be 'nigh invulnerable' but that doesn't mean someone can't figure out how to kill one if they put in enough effort or just get stupidly lucky.  
> Nephalem powers have a range that varies in expression based on the individual and whether they have anything other than demon and angel in the mix or not.  
> And no, I refuse to make them as hilariously OP as the online definition. Why would you even need to bother with other characters if you had a character that OP? Just let them rule the world and be done with it.
> 
>  **Feel free to not read the below ramble-y random ramble.**  
>  Also, if an author says they never reread their stories, they either:
> 
> A. do no edits, ever, and the result is obvious B. have someone who literally does their edits for them or C. is a _shitty, shitty liar who lies._
> 
> Because, even on the shortest fic (about 500 words) I've posted with no real edits bothered with just dealing with the formatting requires going through it at least twice. Something of this length chapter, with a fair number of italics inserted? I'd say a minimum of 5 or 6 times. And that's just the formatting checks, and assumes no weird typos or freakish grammar errors that require fixing.  
> That's speaking as someone who is good at spelling and can usually fix grammar issues while writing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Just saying. _(I have no idea where I was going with this.)_  
>  Places I could take it:  
> 1\. I love rereading my stories-Yes, I actually do. I write for my own entertainment and became a better writer so I could enjoy my writing more without cringing so much over the terrible quality of it. (I was a teenager, trust me, it was and is cringe-worthy.) I firmly believe if you can't enjoy your own stories you should be doing something else that you _actually_ enjoy. If you enjoy the concepts but hate your stories because you think they're terribly written, that's a different matter. Writing is a lot like art, you just have to do enough of it to get better at it. Don't expect overnight improvements, it doesn't usually work like that.  
>  2\. While you're pausing to laugh your ass off at some hilarious typo, at least realize that the author probably put a lot of work into catching many more typos that would've made that story hard to read or enjoy. So, particularly for those new or struggling authors, try to drop them a kudos or comment to let them know you appreciate the effort.   
> (Edit: This is mostly self-directed. I don't actually think of myself as a new or struggling author although I do meet a fair number of them, and I am _absolutely_ the person who will stop to giggle over random typos and misused words before sharing the funnier ones with writer friends.)  
>  3\. There is a reason I keep most things I post to under 1k words per post or chapter. I have no idea how people who post longer ones have the patience to go through that much formatting at once.  
> 4\. I drop into semi-logical rambles at the drop of a hat, and they have a tendency to come out lecture-y without meaning to. Sorry~  
> (Edit: Though I do adore getting ramble-y comments! But yes, I will most likely ramble right back. :D )


	5. Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec's burns are horrific, but mostly he's confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: semi-graphic descriptions of severe burns.**

What Alec does not expect is for Q to take one look at him, and take a step towards him, hand outstretched and glowing with burgeoning power, a look of compassion on his face. He’s never seen that expression on the clever face before. Alec catches his wrist before he can do anything. A split second later James _(and where had he been lurking?)_ grabs Q’s arm, apparently likewise determined to stop him.  
  
Q pauses, giving them curious looks, then tilts his head at Alec for an explanation.  
  
“No need to waste your power. There was demon-flame mixed up in the making, so even Nephilim can’t do anything with it.”  
  
“Hm.” Q’s gaze switches to James, expression cooling indefinably.  
  
And James… James actually winces and loosens his grasp, but doesn’t let go. “Sorry, Q. But it’s his face. And burns _hurt,_ a lot worse than bruises and cuts.”  
  
Q’s brows lift briefly. “You have a point. Very well.”  
  
He twists his arm slightly, enough to indicate he’d appreciate being let go, so they do. Then he pivots, grabs Alec’s other arm and proceeds to drag him down to Medical, James trailing behind them like a lost ducky. Alec doesn’t resist, doesn’t want to, but he gets the feeling that resisting will be a lot more effort than it should be if he tries it.  
  
Medical is sent into a tizzy by their arrival, and Alec is quickly ushered onto one of the padded examining tables. He winces as a nurse removes the dressing, but doesn’t complain. It is about time to get it changed anyways. Then Q is sliding into the nurse’s spot as she turns away to dispose of the used dressing, and Alec is wincing for a different reason. He’s seen the seared and sullen skin, how ugly it looks with the salve smeared liberally over it, how horrifying. He wants to cry, because he knows recovery won’t be quick or easy, and how people look at him will change once it finally heals and they realize his looks are marred forever. He wants to punch something at the unfairness of it.  
  
“Do you want to keep the scar, Alec?”  
  
He grimaces lopsidedly. “I don’t think what I want matters. It’s going to scar no matter what. The doctors said I am lucky to keep much of my vision on that side.” The entire right side of his face is a scorched mess, raw and repulsive, skin abraded away medically where possible, so it doesn’t rot in the wound.  
  
Q’s expression gentles. “I can ease the pain if you want the scar, Alec. But I’m not Nephilim. I can heal it if you prefer. It will hurt. A lot. But it will be healed. I can’t stop it from hurting, but I can keep it to a minimum.”  
  
Alec turns his head away. This is a dream and he will wake, back on the plane, face destroyed on one side with no options for true healing, and crying because a dream gave him hope only to crush it. “Do as you like.”  
  
Q hands him something. “Put that in your mouth to bite on.”  
  
And even though it is a dream, Alec can’t quite convince himself that this is not his Q, so he obeys.  
  
“Hold him.” Q orders, and Alec is briefly confused until James’ wide hands clamp firmly around his biceps from behind. And then large, healthy wings with silky feathers that gleam that lovely grey color that is the epitome of grey and glints almost silver when the light hits it just so, snap into existence and spread wide. Alec is so busy staring that he barely notices Q’s hands glowing and hovering over the ruined side of his face, until his world turns inside out with pain so terrible that he is screaming through clenched jaws and struggling against James’ grip to get away, but James has thrown his whole effort into keeping him still. And James’ effort is very effective indeed.  
  
Then Q is wiping away his tears. “Shh, shh. It’s over now. Shh.”  
  
And he realizes that the world is not made of pain anymore, that the horrible feeling of sullen, throbbing pain and half dead flesh is gone, and Q is stroking his skin on both sides of his face and the skin only feels a bit more tender on the right than on the left, a tenderness he has no doubt will fade within a few days. And- “What did you do?”  
  
“I hope you didn’t want that scar, pet. You did say to do as I like, and I don’t like seeing you hurt. I’m afraid you’ll look a bit younger on that side for a while, as well. I can _use_ demon-fire, it would hardly make sense if I couldn’t _heal_ it, now would it? But as a tradeoff, my ability to heal is not as refined as my mother’s; it does not discern between scars and wear lines.”  
  
There is low, heartfelt cursing from the doorway, and Q folds away his gorgeous wings into intangibility and invisibility again. The head doctor is there, looking a bit dazzled. He shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how much people would pay for you to heal demon-fire burns like that? You’d be famous and rich.”  
  
Q gives him a sardonic look, and Alec leans back into James’ hands, that have turned their iron grasp into soothing stroking. “Right. Like I want fame and fortune, and every nutjob demon who doesn’t want their victims healed showing up at my door, not to mention the imbecilic masses who think I should want to heal them for nothing. And then get sued for causing undue pain. Just because I can heal anything doesn’t mean I _like_ to or that I should want to. My ability causes a fair bit more pain than the actual injury. If I healed an injury like Trevelyan’s on someone with a weak body, the shock would be quite likely to kill them. Forgive me if I prefer a job with guaranteed pay and few madmen to encounter, Doctor.”  
  
He shoots Alec and James a chiding look when they snort in tandem at the humor of that statement. MI-6 is not particularly known for its lack of encounters with the power-hungry and insane.  
  
“Oh, _please!_ It’s not exactly kosher to fry your nosy neighbor or their shirt tail relations simply because they are crazed and bothering one. Civilians are no less inventive than your average villain, and there are far more of them to come up with inconvenient tricks to waste my time.” Q turns back to the doctor. “Dr. Smithe, I leave 006 to you to check over for further injuries and treatment. Trevelyan, you may check in your equipment when he is through with you.”  
  
Alec winces in anticipation. “About that…”  
  
Q removes his glasses for a moment to clean them, eyes glinting greener than their usual blue. “Yes, I am aware, 006. You lost them or broke them all. I still expect an accounting.”  
  
Since that’s about right, Alec hunches his shoulders and looks at the floor. “Yes, Q.”  
  
He looks up when a pair of slim fingers lift his chin. “Welcome home, pet. You did well in coming back to me.”  
  
And it’s not… not what he should need to hear. It shouldn’t be. But it is. It feels like his great-grandmother’s hugs, like his mother’s raspberry jam, like James curled up next to him in the dark watching some movie, like a bonfire in a fog bound winter. Like the satisfaction of coming home from a mission gone well and knowing sleep will come without nightmares. It feels like the warmth of coming home.  
  
He opens his mouth and blurts. “I think I swallowed that thing you gave me to bite on.”  
  
Q looks startled, then chucks his chin lightly and laughs, “No, pet, you didn’t.” He’s still laughing when he exits, leaving Alec to baffled confusion.  
  
_“What? What did I do with it?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, it's James who remembers that Nephalem can create matter and figures out that the thing Alec was given to bite on simply disincorporated.
> 
> In cannon, Q's eyes are blue. I'm a bit puzzled as to why they're green in fannon, although green is an admittedly awesome eye color. Buuuut! That is why Fae magic is green in this one, to give a reason for his eyes to look green sometimes. (Weird Details 101)


	6. Lookalike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q-branch finds out Q has a brother, the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse thought cows were funny today. So did the person supposed to talk me out of it.
> 
> Comments and editing comments are welcome, but please be gentle.

The day Q-branch _(and most of MI-6)_ learns that there is a clone of their slightly grumpy overlord in the world, Alec is not at his best. He’s bruised and limping, because he twisted his ankle falling off of a _bloody_ woodshed, has a headache due to a concussion courtesy of the same incident and is mostly seeing double. He only goes to Q-branch because someone mentioned Q is in a rare mood today, so he knows Q is in even though it’s supposed to be his day off. And day off or not, Q will expect an accounting of his gear. At least he still has the gun, and it still works. Even if Q is in a terrible mood, that should please him.

He spots Q sitting on the corner of R’s desk for some reason and makes his way over, but he’s too busy not falling over or into things to actually try focusing on him until he’s up close. The first sign that something is off is that Q is wearing a suit. Despite the tense and twitchy body language that has the minions finding things to do on the opposite side of the room and R giving him wary glances, it’s neatly tailored and looks surprisingly nice on him. His hair has been trimmed slightly and swept back more than his usual style; he looks professional and intimidating. There’s no sign of his usual comfortable cardigan and glasses, and his eyes are… green.

Alec doesn’t remember drawing his gun, but he ignores the pain in his ankle from the sudden movement to make sure he keeps his shot steady.

_**“Who are you, and where is Q!?”** _

He knows his tone is ugly, a veritable snarl prompted by fear that something has happened to MI-6’s Quartermaster without anyone even noticing. Moderating his tone is not among his concerns.

The man straightens, body language stilling, eyes regarding Alec with sudden interest. _“Finally,_ someone who actually knows my little brother. I’m Jersey. I’ve been waiting for him to show up.” He squints a little, then smiles. “Oh, Q has a pet? And here I thought he was too straight-laced for even that. You can put that away, you know? It won’t do anything other than annoy me. You’d have better luck hitting me with it than shooting me with it.”

He sighs dramatically when Alec doesn’t move and R discreetly pulls something out of a drawer and points it at him.

“Oh, do stop. Both of you. Nephalem, remember? Also, are you alright? I can heal you if you want. Q will probably be upset if he sees his pet in that condition.”

Alec takes an involuntary step back, lowering his gun so he doesn’t accidentally shoot some minion when he wobbles.

The fashionable Q double narrows his eyes slightly, then laughs. “Oh, I see you’ve already had a taste of Q’s brand of healing.” Jersey moves suddenly, and is right up next to Alec before he can lift the gun again, despite his excellent reflexes. “This won’t hurt a bit. Hold still, now.”

Alec doesn’t. But he’s faintly dizzy, Jersey is faster, the magic catches him, and then he’s dizzy for a different reason. He catches himself on the nearest desk, muttering curses in Russian. The healing of Q’s self-proclaimed brother doesn’t _hurt;_ it’s much worse, like being hit with the full force of a Succubus’ allure. He hates it. And as soon as he can figure out which way is up again, he plans to express the extent of his distaste with a bullet or three. It’s a pity he doesn’t have any clips of the spelled bullets left. Those might actually get his point across.

“Q is at home.” R says sharply, words very distinct.

“Q _was_ at home.” His voice corrects mildly from the doorway of his office. And there is Q, holding a mug of something Alec is positive is tea, in a slouchy sweater and comfortable pants and house slippers. “Really, Jersey, how many times have I told you that _asking_ permission isn’t enough? You have to _gain_ it if you don’t want them to shoot you. Or stab you. Or blow you up. Don’t you think antagonizing highly trained field agents is a little hazardous to your continued health? 006, if you waste bullets inside Q-branch, outside of the testing range, I will be displeased.”

Jersey pouts. There’s no other word for it. And it is a very odd expression to see on that clever face. “You should be thanking me. Your pet had a concussion.”

Q sips his tea, then says, “I do apologize for my brother, 006. He chose his name at age 6, when under the impression that cows are awesome, and it’s apparently damaged his sense of social courtesies irreparably.”

“Cows _are_ awesome.” Jersey says sulkily. “And there’s nothing wrong with making someone feel better.”

Q lifts his brows. “Yes, and I am thanking you by keeping my agents from trying to kill you.”

“No need for that. I already told them that their toys wouldn’t work on me.”

“Did you now? And did the one behind you happen to be in the room when you made that little pronouncement? Because I really don’t think that it’s the ones in front of you who you need to be worried about at the moment. Later, maybe, but not now.”

Even Alec blinks at that and follows Q’s gaze across the room to where James has somehow slid into the room unnoticed and lined up a shot with a rifle spelled to take down full demons, which probably won’t kill their intruder, but certainly will make him regret the intrusion long enough for someone else to do something. Jersey turns and spots the same thing, and slowly raises his hands in surrender.

“007, stand down.”

James doesn’t react to the order, other than to narrow his eyes a little.

“Don’t be foolish, Bond.” Q chides. “You’ll just piss him off, and then I’ll make you replace all the equipment in Q-branch when he fries it on accident.”

James’ finger tightens very slightly on the trigger.

R backs away from her desk.

Alec can see Jersey calculating how fast he’ll have to duck.

Then Q makes a small motion with his free hand, James’ hands spasm on the gun, the bullet goes high, Jersey hits the floor, the window of Q’s office spiderwebs with cracks, R curses as the ricochet misses her by less than a foot and buries itself in the wall, and James drops like a rock. The rifle clatters as it hits the floor, and Jersey gets up cautiously after a moment.

“Your pets are rather hot tempered.” He says in a slightly miffed tone.

“I’m going to ignore that, given what you tend to bring home.” Q says mildly. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

A couple of the minions edge over to check on James, and a moment later, there is weak cursing from the floor in the vicinity James was last seen.

Jersey shrugs, straightening his suit jacket. “I just came by to see you. The doormen let me in, and no one seemed to notice that I might need assistance. Well, until your pets. They aren’t very friendly, you realize?”

“They’re field agents. They’re trained to be naturally suspicious of people apparently impersonating me.” Q takes another sip of tea. “And no, I’m not hiding you from your daughter. Man up and go to her recitals. I know she sings like a crow. So does Heidi. She wants you to be proud enough of her to come anyways. Was there anything else? No? Well then, you’ve seen me. Goodbye.”  
  
He makes a small shooing motion.

Jersey curses and stumbles backwards to avoid a shower of green sparks near his face, not seeing the door-like rectangle of green lines that appear in the air behind him as he does, and seemingly steps through thin air out of sight with another curse. The green lines disappear and Q sweeps his gaze around the room.

“006, excellent job on bringing back an intact weapon and noticing an intruder. R, do take care of the damages, and investigate how 007 managed to get his hands on that prototype. It’s not cleared for field use yet. Perhaps let M know the guards need retraining. Even Jersey shouldn’t have been able to get in that easily. _Especially_ Jersey. I realize we’re the same height and hair color, but other than that, we look nothing alike. At the very least, they should have required him to show ID.” Q huffs and disappears into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. There’s no sign of him through the office window, so presumably he’s gone back to where he came from.

There’s a moment of resounding silence in the room, broken only by James brushing off the minions, who have been fussing over him, as he gets to his feet.

R opens her mouth, closes it, then says in a bewildered tone, “And I was _convinced_ he wore those glasses just for show.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jersey _(Not his real name, but he still goes by it.)_ is actually older than Q by about 50 yrs. He has a formidable wife. And a daughter named Heidi, who can't sing on-key to save her life, poor thing. He's a businessman, and harmless for the most part. But before he met his wife, he spent a few years as a mercenary, taking out supernatural baddies for the government and was very good at it. He does occasionally, however, still have the occasional nutjob or vastly mistaken desperate person follow him home after some impromptu use of magic, mostly due to the seductive side effects of it.
> 
> Alec realizes later that his headache and double vision are gone. The twisted ankle has to heal the natural way.  
> He's very embarrassed about the woodshed incident, which was the result of his target tossing a flash drive full of important information to his 14 year old son at the last second, and the kid thinking it a great lark to take to the roofs to get away. On the other hand, the kid was so busy laughing at Alec that he also fell off a roof and broke his wrist. Alec was able to retrieve the flash drive, and left his hand-wringing target to call an ambulance for his wailing son.
> 
> James wasn't exactly expecting the magical equivalent of being choke chained when he defied Q's order to stand down. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, Q is too busy enjoying his day off to bother with taking the matter up further at the moment.
> 
> Q actually does need glasses, but not _that_ badly. He mostly wears them to dim seeing Fae-type _doors_ and similar things, which he finds distracting. In fact, he is almost identical to Jersey in appearance but is very willfully blind to this. Jersey's a bit less blind to it, but thinks anyone should be able to tell the difference at a glance, given that they dress and act differently. He mostly shows up to see Q when he wants sympathy about something his wife or daughter want him to do. Q is rarely sympathetic.


	7. James' Version of Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From James' side, things went down a little differently.

Attention attracted by Alec’s alarmed, furious snarl of _**“-where is Q?”**_ James needs only one glance to see why Alec is aiming his weapon at the creature who looks like Q. It isn’t the clothes, though that is definitely _off,_ it is the posture that, even while sitting on R’s desk, is indefinably _wrong_ to be Q.  
  
Worse, by the startled expressions of the Q-branch minions, Alec is the first to notice.  
  
Even James had seen the man earlier, but only from the back as he’d passed by, so he hadn’t realized that he was an imposter instead of a visitor. Kicking himself as it claims that Q is a sibling, he turns and hurries back to where he’d been test firing guns for R &D to alleviate boredom on his day off.  
  
He doesn’t know what the creature is, but given the eerie resemblance, chances are that it’s some sort of high level demon. There’s no way that the creature is Q’s brother, not with that level of mimicry; he’s met the younger siblings, after all. The minion in charge of the test range gives him a startled look at his reappearance. He snaps, “Unreported incursion in Q-branch, possible full blood demon or something else unbothered enough by regular bullets to be able to claim to be a Nephalem.”  
  
Immediate worry overtakes surprise on the minion’s face. “We don’t have anything that can damage a Nephalem.”  
  
“How about a demon? A high-rank sort with mimicry skills?”  
  
“Uh…” The minion winces. “We do have one that might do some significant damage, but it’s still not cleared for field tests. There’s a possibility it might-”  
  
“Get it.” James cuts him off, because the clock is ticking, and if Alec’s not dead yet, it’s only by God’s mercy. And R and the minions will be next.  
  
The low-range rifle the minion brings back looks pretty impressive with all the spells he can see inlaid on the woodwork and etched along the barrel. And while he’s not like Alec, who can see active magic and runes thanks to his witch blood, he can sense the spells are stable and firmly laid. He has no doubt the gun itself is a smooth-working piece; it’s not the gun so much as the spell work that is experimental. This will do nicely. He pauses only to check that it has ammunition and nods at the minion before hurrying back to Q-branch.  
  
To his dismay, Q, who he knows for a fact is off today and not in the building, is there when he gets back. He slips into the room as Q finishes saying something to the imposter.  
  
“-kill you.”  
  
He finds a good spot and lines up a shot with care as the impostor responds, “No need for that. I already told them that their toys wouldn’t work on me.”  
  
“Did you now? And did the one behind you happen to be in the room when you made that little pronouncement? Because I really don’t think that it’s the ones in front of you who you need to be worried about at the moment. Later, maybe, but not now.” Q replies, seemingly unmoved by the fact that he’s just given away James’ advantage. _Dammit, Q!_  
  
Everyone turns and looks at him, including Alec, who is shockingly still intact as far as he can tell without taking his eyes off the intruder. The intruder raises his hands in surrender, but James can see that he’s only waiting for a moment where his attention wavers to act.  
  
“007, stand down.” Q orders calmly, but Q is very good at sounding calm when he’s far from it, and James can’t afford to look at him better to see if his eyes reflect his calm tone. James narrows his eyes, but refrains from pulling the trigger.  
  
“Don’t be foolish, Bond.” Q chides. “You’ll just piss him off, and then I’ll make you replace all the equipment in Q-branch when he fries it on accident.”  
  
It’s enough to tell him that Q is serious in not regarding the man as a threat, but his instincts are telling him that the man is _definitely_ enough of a threat to stay alert. And his instincts are _very, very good._ His finger tightens slightly on the trigger, more in annoyance at Q’s laconic threat to make him pay for any damage done to Q-branch than because he has any intention of actually pulling it. Yet.  
  
A small gesture from Q catches the edge of his vision, but there’s no time to parse it before it feels like he’s being garroted by a high-voltage electric fence, his body spasms, and he hears a shot go off as all goes dark.  
  
He comes awake to tentative touches and two worried minions bending over him. His body is still too numb to move, and he curses weakly as he realizes that Q must have taken his lack of immediate compliance as direct disobedience.  
  
“I just came by to see you. The doormen let me in, and no one seemed to notice that I might need assistance. Well, until your pets. They aren’t very friendly, you realize?” he hears the intruder say in miffed tones.  
  
“They’re field agents. They’re trained to be naturally suspicious of people apparently impersonating me.” Q says with utter calm, and then pauses while James processes that _yes,_ Q does know what James’ _(and Alec’s)_ assessment of the situation is. “And no, I’m not hiding you from your daughter. Man up and go to her recitals. I know she sings like a crow. So does Heidi. She wants you to be proud enough of her to come anyways. Was there anything else? No? Well then, you’ve seen me. Goodbye.”  
  
James winces in realization as there is the feel of Q’s magic and the intruder curses. _Maybe, just maybe,_ the intruder really is Q’s brother, and either way, Q obviously knows him on a personal basis. A _friendly_ basis. No wonder Q has taken his lack of action as defiance.  
  
“006, excellent job on bringing back an intact weapon and noticing an intruder. R, do take care of the damages, and investigate how 007 managed to get his hands on that prototype. It’s not cleared for field use yet. Perhaps let M know the guards need retraining. Even Jersey shouldn’t have been able to get in that easily. _Especially_ Jersey. I realize we’re the same height and hair color, but other than that, we look nothing alike. At the very least, they should have required him to show ID.” Q’s tone is edged with restrained irritation that doesn’t bode well for anyone involved, except maybe Alec, who got an approving tone for his part.  
  
There is the sound of a door closing a bit too firmly, and then silence. James struggles to his feet, brushing off the worried minions who are really no help at all. A sweeping glance shows bafflement on every face and that Q is gone, as is the intruder.  
  
“And I was _convinced_ he wore those glasses just for show.” R says in a tone that matches her expression.  
  
Uninterested in the vagaries of eyesight, he looks around for the rifle, spots it, and stumps over to retrieve it.  
  
“I’ll just return this to R &D.” he says hoarsely, and stalks out before anyone can object. He may as well. R’s a vindictive little thing, and it’s probably the last time he’ll be allowed into R&D for months. She’ll probably make him pay for replacing Q’s office window, too, even though that was as much Q’s fault as his. Which…okay. Technically anything he owns is Q’s now anyways, so it doesn’t really matter. Having a window taken out of his accessible funds is much better than having Q decide to simply deny him access to all funds. And since he’s not sure that the half-demon is actually aware of that, he’s not going to do anything to put the thought into his head.  
  
He hands the rifle back to the head minion in R&D with a curt, “False alarm.”  
  
The minion looks relieved, then puzzled as he realizes that the gun has been fired. It’s unlike him to not have an opinion on a weapon he’s tested. “Bond, how well did it work?”  
  
James shrugs, silently mourning that he’s going to be banned from here shortly. His days off are going to be infinitely more boring. “It didn’t blow my hands off. Probably ready for some field testing.”  
  
This nets him a cautious look, but the phone rings before the minion can ask questions, and that’s probably from R, so he decides to slip out before the minion can decide to inform him of the inevitable. He’s not willing to deal with that particular piece of bad news at the moment. Not today. Q may think he’s less than bright about his survival _(why is beyond him),_ but he’s intelligent enough to know that Q deciding to _walk away_ in lieu of punishing him immediately is a lot worse than Q turning to tea and crosswords until he calms down. He’s not foolish enough to think that there _won’t_ be further punishment. While he doesn’t punish James for acting on his well-developed instincts in the field instead of following orders, Q does _not_ like being defied. His reaction to it is predictable, and delaying it only makes the result more regrettable for James.  
  
Every. Single. Time.  
  
So, James doesn’t really think it’s over-dramatic to want to avoid further bad news while waiting for the axe to fall. It’s only common sense. He won’t care half as much about being banned from R &D _after_ dealing with Q’s wrath; he’ll be too wrung out to care.  
  
It’s not like he’s skulking out of MI-6 to _hide_ because he’s _worried_ or anything like that. Worry is for things that aren’t inevitable and hiding only works if one doesn’t have an irremovable magical tracker on their person. No, it’s just more _gentlemanly_ to stay out of sight until his next mission and let tempers die down a little in the meantime.  
  
Besides, M ~~will probably~~ _might_ forget to yell at him by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I utterly lack motivation to do (or plot) anything, but I figured someone might like seeing James' side of the mixup, so... Well, even I was surprised at how unbratty James' side of it was.
> 
> Poor James. He's just going to have to worry. As far as Q's concerned, it's his day off, he knows what his brother's like, and knocking James unconscious is the end of it as far as he is concerned. It doesn't even cross his mind that it was defiance; he knows how James reacts to him in person. Just the lack of immediate obedience was annoying him because it was wasting more of his day off and he wanted to get back to it.
> 
> If it wasn't clear, James being knocked unconscious was a _very_ quick process, taking less than two seconds total. He's _much less_ hurt than plain shocked.


	8. James' Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James' opinion of the collar shifts over time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that my muse is a troll _(among other uncomplimentary terms)_? I figured that at most this was about 500 words. _Yeahhhh,_ nope.
> 
> Writing this was like that scene in Bleach where Renji forgets to bring along the thing that's supposed to watch his gigai for him and spends the entire time Ichigo is fighting just getting out of the gigai. It took two full days to decide that yes, it wanted to be written, and another two days to actually get written.

At first, James hates the collar. It’s a lead weight on his existence, proof that his freedom is now a lie. It takes a while for the weight of it to sink in, but kneeling on Q’s office floor, he has that time.

Though slim and lightweight to begin with, and now thin and flat and nearly weightless, it feels like a heavy steel shackle. There’s no way out of it, no reset button, no go back to Start. If anything, this _is_ the go back to Start, the reset button. Nothing will be the same from here on out. Only Q can remove the collar now, and James isn’t even certain that Q can unless James retires, not without breaking his own contract. And if there’s one thing Āglæca _aren’t_ known for, it’s breaking their contracts. It’s one of the things that makes them so dangerous. They can follow a contract to the letter and still find enough holes in it to bring the world crashing down around the contract holder. The more inventive ones can even uphold the spirit of the contract while doing so.

Anyways, there’s no way MI-6 will stand for Q breaking it for other reasons, because if they do they’ll be violating _their_ end of the contract and if there’s one thing more dangerous than a Āglæca with a contract, it’s a Āglæca with a contract the other party has violated, even in some small matter. Because that means the Āglæca is no longer bound by the contract, with any penalties fall on the other party, and it’s only a matter of time before the Āglæca screws over the unsuspecting contract holder, who is still under the impression that they are safely bound by the contract. It’s why M was so insistent on Q choosing a pet in the first place.

And then there’s the little matter of _James’_ contract.

It’s not that there is no such thing as a purely human, non-magical 00, but they are rare. They tend to die quickly when faced with supernatural opponents. The only one currently on staff is 0012, a man so devout that his presence makes even normal humans uncomfortable on a general basis, and makes even Nephilim flinch when he calls on God’s power. The average 00, however, is magical enough in some manner or other that the MI-6 contracts are a little more _binding_ on them than they are for a normal human. James is no exception. He can retire at any time, of course, but retiring simply to avoid becoming or staying as the Quartermaster’s pet is _specifically_ against the contract. There are no stated consequences for breaking the contract. MI-6 is content to let an offender’s own nature determine the penalties for breaking a contract. So he doesn’t know exactly what would happen should he break it, but he does know that it will be something he’ll dearly regret if he dares.

That aside, he’d be bored senseless within a month of quitting MI-6, and many if not all of his offers of alternative employment would dry up should he quit MI-6 in such a manner. There are many things he’d rather do in life than wear a collar and answer to a skinny techie half-demon, but eating a bullet out of inutterable boredom is not one of them.

Or so he tells himself as he kneels, collar snug around his throat, next to Alec as they wait to be dismissed. He knows he would have come to the same conclusion even if Alec had not stepped in and expedited things.

As days and weeks pass, he still hates the collar, but he often forgets that it’s there when at home or in the field. With too many other things to focus on, his skin gets accustomed to the slight weight of it. He barely notices it except when he looks in a mirror or needs to wash under it. It allows that. Though attempts to break it are ignored, and his one attempt to cut it off resulted in being unpleasantly shocked.

Q does something to it at some point, though, and afterwards it seems as if the collar has a bit of sentience of its own. On very hot days, it’s cool against his throat, on very cold days it keeps his neck warm. Most of the time, it’s not seen or even felt by his targets or the women he seduces for information, but a couple times it shows itself and he is mistaken as a demon-thrall or Fae-thrall, deflecting any suspicions about him being any flavor of law enforcement. Those things he doesn’t mind at all. He’d still prefer to be without the collar, but he’d be a fool to keep resenting something that helps him do his job and looks after his comfort to boot.

And it’s not as if Q needs it to control him; he definitely doesn’t. It’s more of an accessory, really.

James sees Alec’s resistance to Q’s commands even though he’s trying to obey, he knows that is the more normal reaction to their situation, that it should be _his_ reaction, but honestly he doesn’t quite understand it. In the field, where trained instincts run high and the comms filter the Quartermaster’s voice, it’s not really an issue. But in person? It’s as if Q’s voice short circuits something in his head and he finds himself obeying orders before he can even consider whether or not he should want to. At times like that, he finds the collar oddly reassuring, a reminder that obeying is what his contract says he should be doing.

So there’s no real reason for him to specifically resent the collar other than not having a choice in wearing it. He’s not even surprised when it proves to be impossible for blades to penetrate. If it won’t let him remove it, there’s no reason for it to let someone else remove it. It doesn’t cover his whole throat, of course. Except, he’s discovered, that sometimes it will grow to do just that.

The first time it is slow, with a knife already gouging into his skin and blood sliding down his neck before it reacts. It takes him a bit to place the crawling sensation, then the petty criminal he carelessly let get the drop on him is cursing and shaking his hand while the small knife bounces off of James several times before tumbling to clatter on the cement floor. He uses the distraction to attack and knock his opponent out, then spends a while breaking the chair enough to wiggle lose from his bonds.

It reacts far more quickly to the spelled knife and the demon-forged sword, saving him from a pair of messy deaths. _(Which, okay, not like he can die more than once, but if he could… Well, either way, it is two near misses.)_

The time it _ricochets_ a bullet, he’s a lot more surprised. And by ‘ricochets’, he means ‘ _reflects_ the damned thing back on the _same trajectory_ it came from, back _down_ the barrel, and blows up the gun’. And look, James _knows_ the improbability of that happening. He _knows_ the likelihood of a bullet hitting a curved object and returning on the same trajectory is like a million to one. He _knows_ that firing a bullet pushes a gun a little out of line, so that a returning bullet is far more likely to find something else to hit. He _knows_ that a bullet deforms when leaving the gun and deforms further when impacting something. He _knows_ that with those facts put together, the odds of a bullet reflecting, finding the mouth of the gun barrel, and successfully traveling back down it are approximately the same as the odds of a universe spontaneously creating life on its own. But when he impulsively scoops up the smoking remains and drops it off for analysis, that’s essentially exactly what happened. Apparently the collar doesn’t give a damn about probability.

Then there is the time it prickles and does _something_ after the woman he’s seducing turns out to be a lot less innocent than he assumes and takes him off guard by injecting him with something. He’s not exactly sure what it is that the collar does, it doesn’t _neutralize_ the drug per se, but he can feel its magic go through him and he knows it’s done _something_ to it.

The aftermath of that little fiasco is not pretty. What’s left to the drug acts like a date rape drug; leaving him helpless as the woman turns him over to her lover and cheerfully watches as the man works him over. Neither of them seem to care whether he’s a spy or not. He’s not sure which of them is fouler, but inexplicably they leave him alive when they’re done with him. When he limps out of there, half dead and half wishing he were dead, with an intense and newborn sympathy for school girls who have poor judgement in dates, he’s in no condition to finish the job and glad he was only there to provide a distraction on the behalf of a junior agent who’s been embedded for some time. Since they leave the needle, he takes it back with him to get it analyzed. Later, he’ll check the lab report on it to see what was so bad about it that being totally incapacitated was the _safer_ version.

But for now, he drops off the needle for analysis, then avoids Medical to go straight to Q. His sadistic healing-as-punishment for being careless is sure to wipe away the lingering feel of unwanted hands and worse. And James needs that badly right now.  
  
Q, though, takes one look at him and says in a mild tone, “You should go to Medical.”

 _And it’s just-_ It’s just- It’s not an order, and for that he’s extremely thankful. _But-_ He doesn’t know if his expression changes or if it’s just the way his shoulders hunch slightly in reaction, but Q’s expression turns curious for a brief moment and his eyes sharpen.

“Wait for me in my office, James.”

 _And that-_ that he can do.

It is a few minutes before Q comes in, so he just stands and waits. The door closes firmly behind Q.

“So, you want me to heal you?”

He nods tightly. It’s not so much _wants_ as _needs._

Q takes a seat and motions James around to kneel on the cushion he knows wasn’t there a moment ago _(yes, he’d checked)._ He kneels, not because he’s afraid that anyone else will see inside _(he’d once caught the minions watching some kids show with short blue people wearing mushroom hats on the window of Q’s office when privacy was needed, never mind that the only thing unusual about the window is that it’s bulletproof glass)_ , but because Q wants this from him.

“Tell me.” Q demands quietly.

So he does. And _Q knows,_ or at least James _thinks_ he does, what happened. If not, he has a very good idea. James tells him anyways. At no point does Q look angry with James. Then Q bends forward and washes healing energy over all of him at once. A sensation that is not quite heat, not quite pain spreads through his veins and every injury lights with terrible pain. He expected it, wanted it, _needed_ it, but it’s still enough agony to have him collapsing on his side, sobbing.

It’s okay, though. _It’s okay._ The crawling sensation of lingering sense-memory of every violation is washed clean, and he knows he’ll be able to sleep tonight.

Then Q is sitting on the floor and pulling his head into his lap and stroking his hair soothingly. It’s shocking, but he doesn’t question it. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but he wakes to an empty office, his head on the sinfully soft pillow he usually kneels on.

When he wanders out of the office, R, who is looking rather rough, raises three fingers. “Q said he had something to do. And the lab would like to express sincere surprise that you are alive and relatively well if that’s really what you were injected with, since it should have killed you in a slow and excruciating manner and currently has no antidote, though they have begun work on one. Also, M would like a report as soon as you are able.”

He raises his brows and flashes her a smile that bounces off her usual armor of _‘does not give a damn’_ , and saunters out to deal with M.

So, James currently has some seriously mixed feelings on the collar at the moment _(because couldn’t it have just neutralized the poison entirely?)_ , but not being dead by way of unrelenting wretchedness is a rather useful point in its favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James may be a little hung up on the half-demon part of Q's nature to begin with.
> 
> *Spelled knife impacts collar.* *Collar trashes the runes on it a little.* *Knife is thereafter only good for cutting cheese; it cuts cheese like a boss, but an unsharpened butter knife would be better for anything else.*
> 
> *Demon sword impacts collar.* *Collar shatters a nice long chip out of the blade edge, a little longer than the entire length of impact against the collar.*
> 
> Demon-forged swords do not generally eat souls, but they tend to have a malicious semi-awareness and a single cut can cause death or severe complications. They are fortunately rather rare outside of the hands of full demons.
> 
> I leave what torture James underwent up to your vivid _(and hopefully less evil than mine)_ imaginations, but helpless as he was, something he is unused to, James felt violated by the entire matter. He compares it to a date rape drug, because there are some which leave the victim unable to react but aware of what is going on _(these tend to be poisonous and a too-large dose can kill the victim)._ I did not go digging into the variety of such drugs, but I did see part of a documentary on them a decade or so ago.
> 
> Q, in fact, was not aware of what had occurred. James managed to miss the part where his communicator was destroyed. As for Q's little errand, he knows who he's looking for, and he has access to _doors._ He has this little _issue_ with James coming home in that state.
> 
> Children's show: Smurfs anyone?
> 
> 0012 tends to get a certain _flavor_ of mission, given his particular skill set. Also, he's not particularly what most would consider 'holy', but he most certainly is _devout_. He's unnerving more because he gives off an unspecified vibe of 'fanatic' than because he's frighteningly 'good' (since he really isn't).


	9. Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec finds out that his collar has some special abilities as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not what I was thinking about writing. It rather insisted. Then did that push pull thing where it fights me and then points out that it's _"not DONE tyvm, so keep on writing."_

Alec doesn’t realize that Q has taken violent exception to healing him of demon fire burns until he is tied with heavy ropes to a chair in a warehouse, after he screws up a mission somehow _(if it was him, he suspects betrayal)_ , while they blow up the building around him and the fire _doesn’t touch him._ Even the bloom of inferno heat around him is muted, so he can still breathe without scorching his lungs. Well, sort of. He’s still coughing in the debris filled air.

It’s surprising, really. James had mentioned something about his collar doing odd things, but until now his had simply been inert.

He’d assumed that Q just knew that James needed more looking after, both as James and as Bond, and thus had added various protections to his. It had never occurred to him that his own collar had protections as well, and that they simply hadn’t activated prior to this because he is better at dodging life threatening situations than James is.

Then the roof falls in and a steel beam hits him, shattering the chair, breaking his leg, and pinning him underneath it and some burnable debris as the place burns around him. It’s like hell. Trapped to be burned alive, and he can admit to a very human terror of it as it burns above and around him, and heats the steel beam to scorching. But by rights, he should be dead, or near to it _already_. He’s fairly sure the beam was on a trajectory aimed at his chest or head and shoulders and _deflected_ as it hit the strange shimmer of magic that the collar is projecting to protect him from the fire and heat, is _still_ projecting, though it’s drawn in tight, now.

Everything around him is burning, the beam is hot enough it’s glowing in a couple spots _(fortunately spots further from him),_ even the flooring is crisping but his clothing isn’t catching fire, _he_ isn’t burning despite the flames all around and on top of him, and he can still breathe more or less. Then the floor cracks a little under him and suddenly his pinned leg has enough space he can wiggle it out from under the beam. And by the time he’s done doing that, most of the debris on top of him has burned to ashes and cinders, or at least enough of it has that an upwards surge allows him to shake it off. Only to go sprawling as he puts weight on his broken leg and the flooring gives a little in an ominous way.

Cursing, he hauls himself to his feet again and limps through the disaster-scape in an adrenaline boosted hurry. If they catch him now, he’s dead. But there’s no reason for them to stick around and make sure _(witches’ descendants aren’t proof against fire),_ so as long as he can get out of sight before the police and fire department show up, he should have at least until the place cools enough for them to determine no bodies were caught in the blast before they think to look for him again.

Always assuming no one reports an ash covered man limping out of the flames, of course. He needs to take care of that.

Walking on a broken leg is not ideal, of course, the jolt of agony with each step is breath stealing, but he’s done it before, and drawing attention by using something as a crutch isn’t worth the risk. Somehow he makes it back to his rented room. Fortunately the woman at the desk is passed out with a bottle of cheap wine at her elbow.

He is able to shower, and splint his leg, and walk out as if nothing occurred. Alec makes it into the rented car before he has to pause and breathe through clenched teeth for a minute. It is a risk to take this car, but one he is forced to take.  There is little time left to leave before they come looking for him again. And with a broken leg, he’s vulnerable. He didn’t get far enough into the mission to learn anything of value other than that they have a possible traitor, but he’s compromised so he needs to leave for now. He’ll be back, though. Even compromised he can smoke out probable traitors before another double O is sent in to do the actual mission. He smiles in dark anticipation.

Back in London, he’s not too surprised to be met by a car from MI-6, despite losing his comm and phone and not getting word to them. Q doubtlessly can keep track of them via the collars, he’s pretty sure that’s an inbuilt function, and may have felt the collar’s magic activate as well although he’s not entirely sure on that count. He gets in wearily and relaxes as the car moves off before he realizes that there is another person in the car with him who he simply hadn’t noticed.

With an ungodly effort, because he hasn’t had the time to chance seeing a doctor and has been relying on over the counter pain killers and his leg wishes he’d just sod off and die already, he opens his eyes and looks over. One glance is enough to make him cringe.

Q’s near-identical, elegant brother is eyeing him assessingly.

_“Oh hell, no.”_

Jersey’s mouth quirks in a grin. “Afraid so. He said to tell you that you need to take better care of yourself.”

Alec winces. James apparently gets Q’s healing as punishment for being careless, and Alec gets _Jersey._ He’d like to trade, thank you very much!

Exhausted and in too much pain to bother, he doesn’t fight as Jersey leans over and puts magic-glowing hands on his leg. Instead, he just clenches his teeth and as the side-effect wave of euphoric sexual attraction washes over him, hisses out,  
  
**“I. Hate. You.”**

Jersey pats his knee and chuckles as he sits back. “You are a very lucky pet, you know. I can see fading traces of his protective magic all over you, so you’d probably be dead right now if you weren’t his.”

As if Alec doesn’t already know this?

“I still hate you.”

“A healthy attitude.” Jersey approves _(and it’s really unfair how much he sounds like Q)_. “Do try to avoid attempting to kill me, though.”

Alec grimaces. “I won’t. But if you heal me without permission again, I’ll put a few holes in you.”

Jersey gives him the most thoroughly amused look he _never_ wants to see on Q’s face directed at him. “You’re adorable. Q says you’re the smart one. I think the pair of you are very good for my little brother. His grumpy cat and his brat cat.”

And Alec really doesn’t want to address any of that, though he’d really like to hit Jersey if he wasn’t afraid of a. soundly irritating Q by doing so and b. actually touching the man. They are _not_ animals, though if he had to admit to it, the comparison is uncomfortably accurate in other ways. But he is uncomfortably aware that while James is broken in ways that make people underestimate his intelligence and likes to be underestimated as well, he can casually pull out information from memory with an ease that sometimes leaves Alec breathless with unjealous envy.

“Bond is smarter than I am.”

Jersey gives him a curious look, settling himself into a more comfortable position. “Q usually has a good reason for the things he says. You may or may not be right that in sheer intelligence he is _‘smarter’,_ but there is obviously something that you do better with that intelligence. At a guess, you are better with subtler interaction cues than the brat.”

Alec is not convinced that this is a compliment.

It must be apparent on his face, for Jersey chuckles. “You’re probably thinking me healing you was punishment of some sort, but it’s actually the opposite. He hates that he causes pain in healing people. And this way you can turn around and go back in the field rather than wait the long way around for your leg to heal up. Handy, no?”

His eyes narrow, because being nice just because he can is so not a Q thing. Sending him immediately back into the field without a _very compelling_ reason is not a Q thing either. So unless he _knows_ things that Alec has missed, or M has given orders, having Jersey heal him is very much a punishment. It’s not as if MI-6 doesn’t have Nephilim to call on if he really needs his leg healed in a hurry. But at the same time, if Jersey’s tells are similar to Q’s, he seems to believe what he just said, so it’s likely that he traded a favor for the healing.

It’s puzzling.

He understands when Q greets him with the detached intensity of a man concentrating on a mission, and hands him a picture. It’s one of the local support agents he met recently.

“Tell me, Trevelyan. What was his energy like?”

Alec blinks. Seeing magic is convenient sometimes, but he’s rarely asked about energy types. He has to take a minute to recall, “Low level witch/demonic.”

A predatory grin spreads across the clever face. “He was once reported dead. But more importantly, he’s on record as having very faint angel ancestry.”

Q hands him a thin stack of photos with statistics attached. Now he knows what he’s looking for, Alec pages through them slowly, pulling out three. “These don’t match energies.” Then he pulls out a fourth. “This one, he matches, but he seemed nervous.”

“Nervous how?”

“He tugged on his beard a lot and his hands were cold in a warm room.”

Q takes the profile and studies it for a moment, then grins that predatory grin. “Domovoy.”

“Pardon?”

“His unknown supernatural heritage. It’s one of the Russian Fairy types. He probably knows something is wrong but not what. But cold hands on a Domovoy is a harbinger of misfortune. And they are very hairy. He has a very impressive beard, doesn’t he?”

“Would do a lion’s mane proud.” Alec agrees.

Q sorts through the other three pictures briefly, then looks up with a hard glint in his eyes. “Take those four down, 006. 0012 will be taking over the mission, but you will remain as back up and distraction.”

Alec sucks in a sharp breath. He should have expected that, given the impersonations they are dealing with. That smacks of some serious, high level demon involvement. “And the ones who tried to blow me up?”

There is a moment of…not hesitation, but stillness, then Q sits back casually. “So that’s what happened.” He studies Alec for a long, searching moment, and then smiles. Alec knows that smile. He’s seen it in the mirror before he goes out to destroy England’s enemies. Predatory doesn’t cover it. It’s malicious, eager. A travesty.  
  
“Do as you like, pet.”

_Oh yes, he knows Alec well._

And he’s just given him blanket permission to do his worst.

Alec feels a matching smile spread over his face. _Well, then. His worst he shall do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The explosions are not demon fire. Alec is simply correlating his demon fire burn previously to his collar's current protections against fire. He is correct. The collar would stop demon fire as well.
> 
> Alec's left leg is broken by the impact of the beam. It's also his left leg that gets pinned by it. He's laying on his right side, but at an angle that makes it almost impossible to put leverage with his other leg against the beam. The warehouse goods that landed on top of him exacerbate the problem by trapping him at that angle, so he can't squirm around and try to free himself. The tangle of heavy rope and broken chair around him definitely don't help either.
> 
> Walking on or wiggling a broken bone is NOT recommended. It's also something that most people would not be able to do, due to pain and nausea, and might even cause them to faint if they tried. However, the human body is a fearful and wonderful instrument. Two things (barring abnormal lack of pain sensitivity) can cause the body to override agony to allow someone to use a limb that is broken. The first is adrenaline, and Alec has _plenty_ of adrenaline in his system to begin with. The second is survival. The body is capable of shutting down and entire section of nerves to prioritize survival (or need).  
>  And some people have the capability to do this at will rather than as an involuntary function. Thus tales of people who walk alive out of situations that should have killed them, or hold a line in a battle long after they should theoretically be dead. I imagine the ability to either shut down or ignore epic levels of pain in favor of doing what needs to be done is probably not uncommon among the longer-lived double Os.
> 
> James is one of those people who can pull random, high level trivia out of memory, more or less repeating it without processing (thinking) about it, so it's almost instantaneous. To Alec, it gives the feel of James being a lot smarter than he portrays himself _(and James isn't much for modesty, so he rarely pretends to be stupid)_ and hiding it. Though Alec isn't wrong that James likes to let people underestimate him. That's kind of stock in trade for 00s.
> 
> Domovoy: a Russian house spirit, classified as a 'Fairy'. Wiki has an entry if you're interested.
> 
> Jersey was annoying Q, Q was busy, Alec was hurt. So Q agreed to go to a family dinner if Jersey would go heal Alec. Mostly to get Jersey out of his hair. He didn't even consider Alec's reaction.
> 
> Alec dislikes Jersey less because he doesn't bother waiting for consent, and more because his magic in use feels a lot like magically attempted rape to him. (Also why he dislikes Succubi and Incubi.) It also doesn't help that Jersey looks so much like Q, but is _not_ Q.


	10. Double O list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As on the tag.  
> A list of the double Os and a few others.  
> List will be updated later with other characters and expanded definitions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since I spent yesterday sulking because allergies suck. And spent today vastly regretting the monthly being female thing, and am likely to spend a couple more days minimum before writing comes back online, I figured I could at the very least post some worldbuilding I was working on before I woke up blessing the existence of magnesium.

_**Height disparities:**_ This is where I checked canon, coughed, swore, and did a bunch of research and gathering opinions. Did you know that 1. the current actor for Bond is the shortest actor to play Bond? Half the actors were 6'+, 2. the current actor for Q is the shortest to play him? The two well-known actors that played Q previously were respectively 6'2 (ouch, that hunch) and 6'5! _(There were two others, I could NOT find heights on)_ , 3. I had no idea that Alec is actually under 6' at 5'11?  
Ugh. So anyways, cuz of many reasons, but most importantly that I would have trouble writing them shorter, they're getting a height boost. But! Feel free to imagine them at whatever height your brain puts them at.

  


**001=** Delennyk Creed (Cornish name), goes by Dela, female with pale ashblonde/silvery hair and pale greygreen eyes, young or young looking  
  
**002=** Andy Renton _(No relation to former 006 of the same name)_ , brown hair, looks muscular/military type, smiley. 5'11ish.  
  
**003=**   Roan Fitch, male, lean, mean redhead (rich, mid-dark red), likes stuffed toy/s, striking greenish eyes (rich green with just a hint of blue, and pale amber flakes around the center of the eye), youngish. 6'2, the tallest of the double Os.  
  
**004=** Scarlett Papava, brunette, striking/bold (but not refined) classical features that make her a beauty, excellent at manipulating others, particularly men  
  
**005=** Kadro Manning, looks middle eastern, late thirties. Was a victim of human trafficking as a kid.  
  
**006=** Alec Trevelyan, dark blond, Russian-born, his great grandmother was a witch, he can see magic and runes even when they're invisible to those without magic, has a deep affection and protective instinct for James that prevented him from following through on his plans to defect and scam England out of a lot of money as revenge for his parents deaths. 6'1.  
  
**007=** James Bond, landowner of Skyfall Estate in Scotland, blond. Has something supernatural a little bit in the bloodline, unknown, lets him sense magic and its stability or instabilities, sturdier than a regular human would be, he's taken blows that would've severely injured or killed a normal with no lasting harm and gone on to continue/win the fights. About 6'. Has a knack for pulling trivia out of memory without thinking about it when asked. Sometimes freezes up and spaces out when overwhelmed or triggered  
  
**008=** Vivian Nomura, female, asian looking, petite (about 4'8"), black hair to her waist, much stronger than she looks and downright evil in a fight. Theoretically a Āglæca. Her father is a demon, her mother is a Āglæca who falls on the very moral side, as she was raised by her human, traveling-Shaman father, who was a very kind and moral man. Vivian choose to work for MI-6 because it gives her a very good outlet for her demonic 'causing havoc' tendencies, while satisfying her mother's morals. Her contract specifically states that if she is chosen as a Quartermaster's pet, the contract will end at the retirement of either of them. It also contains some other unusual terms. On the whole, she is a very balanced, stable personality. Not that her enemies would agree once she's through with them.  
  
**009=** Clive Woodslow, stunning British black man in mid-late 20s, about 5'10, a very purposeful and driven man, Woodslow speaks English, Japanese and Russian, with skills in firearms, hand-to-hand combat and card sharking. He is also noted for being humourless.  
  
**0010=** John Wolfgram, late thirties, does an unnervingly good impression of an accountant, boring and slightly balding  
  
**0011=** Cassia Thorne, Briony's grandniece, blondishbrown ringlets, mid-late twenties, tall. Plays a brainless society girl well, but takes after her great-aunt in her force of nature personality when she feels like it.  
  
**0012=** Simon Griebe, ashbrown hair, plain but somewhat attractive face, 'fanatic' vibe, extremely devout in his way, nearly 6ft, sturdy, but looks deceptively soft when he wants to. The only fully-human double O currently, he has no magic power, but his faith lets him call down a terrifying amount of divine power at will  
  
  
  
**Angus:** One of Q's older brothers. A couple years older than Jersey. Short, black hair, one eye vivid 'angel' blue, one eye red (but most are so distracted by the blue eye that they don't notice it's not brown). Taller and notably broader than both Jersey and Q, he's a fighter, and _not_ retired from the mercenary taking jobs for the government business. Also likes cows. Cannot use Fae 'doors', but can travel most dimensions Angels and Demons can with enough intent involved. He can be 'summoned' by calling his name or nickname _(speak of the devil and...)_ , but he has to have a reason to 'hear' it. Not any old farmer saying 'that's an Angus cow' is going to find Angus showing up, for instance. His wings are a funny mix of black, grey and white feathers.  
  
**Briony Thorne:** mid-seventies, former 003, was a double O for nearly a decade before retiring. She was kidnapped and drugged during a mission to HongKong and framed as a Chinese agent, but got help from the 007 of the time (another James, the position seems to attract James) and was able to clear her name and be reinstated. She likes to show up at MI-6 (although she's not supposed to), ostensibly to visit her grand-niece Cassia Thorne, but mostly to traumatize the staff

 **Jersey:** One of Q's older brothers. About 50yrs older. Almost identical to Q other than his fashion sense and eye color. His eyes are green. He wears suits and styles his hair more, doesn't wear glasses. Has a wife and daughter (Heidi). He likes cows. Has a tendency to condescend to others in strange ways. His healing feels much like Incubi/Succubi seduction magic. Has a stupid habit of healing people without permission. The only reason he's a businessman instead of a doctor is because his wife flatly forbade it. He cannot use 'doors' at will, only the more powerful ones or ones that are currently 'open'. He can see them to some extent, particularly the powerful ones or ones in use. His wings are darker grey than Q's. Ex-mercenary contractor for government.  
  
**M:** Olivia Mansfield, mid-seventies, a former 0010 for 1 3/4yrs in her mid twenties before she relinquished the position for an office job and eventually ended up playing hardball politics as MI-6's director general, she's one of the few purely human double Os to survive the position  
  
**Moneypenny:** Eve Moneypenny, related to the former Ms. Moneypennys, all of which were cousins, aunts, great aunts or in one case her great-grandmother. She gets most of her looks from her mother's side of the family. One easy way to seriously annoy her is to question that she's related with lots of implying that she looks nothing like them so she's 'lying'. While decent in the field and a fairly good shot, she hates making mistakes and doesn't deal well if she accidentally harms the wrong person. She handles being a secretary with much more aplomb.

 **Q:** 5'11. Dark brown hair with loose waves to it. Blue eyes that glint green with Fae magic, particularly if he's using that magic. Wears glasses, more to help him not be distracted by 'doors' than because of his slightly poor eyesight. Among other gifts, he can:  
use both holy and demonic Wrath,  
walk through or otherwise access any dimension that Demons, Angels, or Fae can (possibly more, but this can't be proven)  
and heal, though his gift involves magnifying the pain by a factor of at least 3.  
His temperament is an odd mix of his parents'; though he tries to fight the darker aspects, he's not great at it. His wings are a medium, almost-silver grey.  
Q is his real name. It came about like this: _His father wanted to name him Quartolemuesinedinan, his maternal grandfather wanted to name him Quincinalienovremos, and they were both putting forth arguments on which would be better, nicknames, etc. when his mother got fed up and had a screaming fit and told them that since the only thing they could agree on was a letter, the kid was going to be named 'Q', and at least the poor kid would be able to spell it and not resort to calling himself after a cow._  
  
**Q's dad:** Name? Demon. Black wings. Pretty easy-going for a demon. Has very little trouble from his end living among humans (humans don't always agree). His eyes are the color of old blood, a red so dark that even in sunlight they rarely glint red. It only becomes apparent when he's using his powers. He has an...interesting sense of humor.  
  
**Q's mom:** Name? Nephilim, her non-angel half is mostly Fae. Compared with the usual run of Nephilim, she's a little hair raising, even to double Os. Blonde with 'angel' blue eyes that tend to flash green if she's using Fae magic or is annoyed. Her healing is Nephilim-standard variety. Her wings are white. _(She may or may not have been discussing with one of her youngest children the merits of killing the messenger vs skinning the messenger and sending him back with the message written on his own tanned hide as a method of properly discouraging a powerful enemy when Bond and Trevelyan visited.)_  
  
**Q's maternal grandfather:** Name? Angel. White wings.  
  
neighbors...  
  
**R:** Irene Sangster. Q's assistant. Female. Immune to Bond's flirting. Dark blonde, freckles, looks something [like this](http://static.cdn.markiza.sk/media/a501/image/file/21/0025/HVyy.telerano_eva_kerekes.jpg). Hacker par excellence. Has been known to be cheerfully vindictive when it comes to 00 agents. Very efficient. Likes Q as a friend, respects him as a boss.  
  
minions...:  
  
Guy in weapons R &D: Name?  
  
**Raoul Silva:** Ex MI-6 00 agent. A demon of domain. On record as having minor demon ancestry. When he was captured by the Chinese, M cheerfully traded him for five other agents rather than have him rescued. After being tortured for months... Well, he has it in for MI-6, and M in particular. 

 

 **Āglæca:** Half demons. While some are trustworthy, as a general rule it is wise to not trust them too much. While their demon heritage means that they can be bound by contracts, it is hard to make a contract that they can't get around if they want out of it enough or just have other goals that it gets in the way of. Woe betide the fool who breaks a contract with an Āglæca, knowingly or not. Some may not take advantage of it for their own reasons, but history is littered with empires that fell because of an Āglæca. Most are significantly longer lived and more powerful than humans. Attributes depend heavily upon what sort of demon is the parent. May also depend on what the other half of their heritage is.  
  
**Angels:** Always blond and blue eyed, shades vary. _(Vivid, bright blue eye color is called 'angel blue' regardless of if the person has angel heritage or not.)_ Most can call down some form of holy Wrath. While most avoid fighting for the fun of it, they also tend to be formidable warriors. There are various types.  
  
**Demons:** There are quite a number of types. Not all are fighters, but the ones who are are generally quite formidable. Many of them like to cause chaos. Red eyes and black hair are common, but not a wholesale thing among them.  
  
**Fae:** Technically a British subsection of fairies, they are human like in appearance but unlike in ethics and morals. Rather powerful, playing with dimensions is their strong point. They have terrible tempers...  
  
**Fairies:** A variety of supernaturals, largely but not solely of the humanoid variety. Found all over the world. Fae are a particularly human-looking variety of fairy.  
  
**Humans:** Humans come in three basic varieties:  
Humans with supernatural heritage- Not uncommon. Appearances and traits can vary wildly between individuals. Some are indistinguishable from regular humans on a casual basis. While others have visible traits, such as eye color or magic that makes them stand out.  
Regular non-magical humans- Most common. Normal lifespans, no magic. Normal range of human appearance and abilities.  
Witches- A bit uncommon. Regular humans who happen to have innate magic (those with some supernatural heritage may be much stronger). They can see and use magic and runes. They naturally tend to live longer than regular humans. They tend to be on the lower end of the supernatural power-scale, but can be quite dangerous if provoked.  
  
**Nephalem:** Demon/angel hybrids, demon/nephilim hybrids, or other creatures of similar makeup. I'm working off of [this link](http://powerlisting.wikia.com/wiki/Nephalem_Physiology) and basically toning it down to something usable in a story.  
  
**Nephilim:** Half angels. Most are significantly longer lived and tougher than humans. Most can heal and/or call down holy Wrath. Attributes depend heavily on what type of angel is the parent. May also depend on what the other half of their heritage is.  
  
**Witches:** A variety of human with innate magic (those with supernatural heritages may be more powerful). They can see and use magics. While not usually on the high end of the magic scale, they are quite capable of being dangerous if provoked. They tend to live longer than normal humans. Shamans are a variety of witch. 

 

 **Lesser sand dragons:** They look much like Komodo dragons, but their saliva, not their teeth, is the dangerous part about them. The saliva itself is simply a paralytic and acts as such if introduced to the bloodstream via cut or bite.  
However, until dry, it carries a magical component that, if absorbed through mere skin contact, acts much like spider venom upon the victim, but without much in the way of physical symptoms until shortly before it kills and leaves its victims nice and soft for chewing on. It's slow acting, taking a few days to complete its work, and requires very little initial contact to be deadly.  
Normal magical healing faces a struggle in being effective against it, and can only cure in the earliest stages of infection/contamination. More drastic magical interventions, such as having it burned out of one's system with a full on dose of holy or demonic Wrath, have as good a chance of killing the victim as curing them.  
In a way, being bitten directly is less dangerous, because having it directly in one's system _counteracts_ the magical component, making it a self-antidote. This, however, presupposes rescue before being eaten on.  
  
**Sand dragons:** ...What? Of course there's not _just_ a 'lesser' species.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions welcome.
> 
> Some of the characters I have more on and am just too tired to mess with typing it in yet. Others I've quite obviously not gotten far with yet.  
>  _I honestly use pics in writing very rarely, but in this case you should be able to find pics of the borrowed double Os noted to have pics. As well as the pic links, for which I'm very, very grateful to SectorDweller for figuring out and telling me how to post properly._  
>  Double O names I borrowed: Andy Renton (no pic of original), Scarlett Papava (pic), Alec Trevelyan (pic), James Bond (several disparate pics), Clive Woodslow (pic), John Wolfgram (no pic), Briony Thorne (comic sketch only).  
> Double Os from scratch: Delynnyk Creed (from a anime-type character I have as a wallpaper, in which she has greenish-silver and purplish hair and greenish-silver eyes), Andy Renton (based on this pic of a firefighter: [Link](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTx6QnoMqEDQcZQ4gXAxUMwGvcVvJH7etRwwE0_d8yj0pPCh82ypg)), Roan Fitch (based on this pic of a musician: [Link](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2007/0247/articles/Screen-Shot-2016-08-25-at-9.41.12-AM_1400x.progressive.png.jpg?v=1513161715) ), Kadro Manning (pic from 'gathering of double Os'), Vivian Nomura (no pic involved), Cassia Thorne (based on this pic of an actress:  
> [Link](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTrKwcQMb2pbL5BflojKvVIPVbATG7wdfnHGMzv4Y3I9jj_2oD8)), Simon Griebe (originally based very, VERY loosely on a mental image of John Watson until I had a chance to sit down and differentiate what I actually meant from the mental image. the mental association was 'looks harmless').
> 
> Thanks to SectorDweller for the stuffed toys suggestion for Roan. (Mwhahahahaha!) And for the suggestions for Q's name.


	11. That wasn't a Komodo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which James comes back unexpectedly, computers meet their demise, and Q is displeased with Medical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, because...  
> Okay, I know this scene is totally out of order from canon _(my fault entirely because I didn't double check before writing it),_ but at this point I can safely say this fic is only kissing cousins with canon. So...  
>     
>  _This is around six-seven years earlier than when it happens in canon. Severine is younger. Bond pursues her in connection to a smaller mission than in canon, and basically comes up empty, has the stupid fight with her bodyguards anyways._  
>  _I was going to just save this draft and post it (much) later, but after looking at the plotline, there doesn't seem to be any good reason that Bond can't simply recognize her during the whole Patrice/Silva thing and directly sneak onto her boat, skipping the casino altogether at that point._

Q warily eyes the gun that Bond has laid on the equipment tray with a proud little smirk, as if he expects Q to be proud of him for returning it intact. It would be a more impressive offering without a few dents that look like teeth marks and the dried bloody drool stains covering it. Besides that, the collar is angry about something it’s not equipped to deal with. Its magic is a bit of his own magic, not quite sentient, but not without opinions. He frowns and gestures for R to take the battered gun away, then takes off his glasses and sets them aside before holding out his hands. Bond looks puzzled before tentatively setting his own hands on top of Q’s.

Turning Bond’s hands over, he invokes his magical sight full force and grimaces as he sees exactly what he feared. It’s reached tentacles through most of Bond’s body by now, and very shortly there will be physical symptoms. At that stage it’s nearly always deadly, no matter the intervention. He _could_ resurrect him if needed, James is _his_ after all, but he really, really doesn’t want to be _forced to_.

“I see you’ve moved on to being straight up suicidal.” He notes grimly. “Grit your teeth, James.”

Startled bafflement flashes in those blue, blue eyes, but faced with a direct order, he complies.

Q calls down a carefully calculated complement of Wrath, a twisting column of holy white and demonic black power, crackling faintly here and there with sparks of fae green, to burn the magical poison out of James’ system. He could have just called down one or the other, but this is faster and more efficient, and time is of the essence here.

It’s not lightning, but James’ entire body seizes as if it is _(and really, there’s not much difference in terms of immediate side effects)_ and several computers nearby have a conniption, sputtering out sparks and thin trails of smoke before subsiding into early death. Thousands of dollars of tech, fried crispy within seconds. Q doesn’t have attention to spare for them, or his suddenly swearing techies, who’re leaping away from their terminalized machines to avoid the fireworks, because James is slumping to the floor now. And even though Q is far stronger than he looks, James is bigger than him and a dead weight; making sure he doesn’t hurt himself as he goes down is trickier than one might suppose.

“What the hell, Q?!” R demands angrily. “Couldn’t you have waited to do that somewhere else? As in _not indoors?_ ”

Q straightens awkwardly and sighs. “Sadly, no. 007 seems to have the mistaken notion that Lesser Sand Dragon saliva is harmless to touch while still wet. It is fortunate he came directly here, rather than avoiding reporting the destruction of his gear as he often does, because he’d quite likely be dead within a few hours if he hadn’t.”

R at least seems to have some working knowledge of what he’s speaking of, unlike his ignorant agent, because a look of undiluted horror passes over her face briefly. Then she stiffens her spine to complain, “You couldn’t have waited long enough to take it out in the hall and avoid destroying expensive computers?”

He gives her a flat look. “No. I’ll replace them. 007 is a bit harder to replace.”

She purses her lips, then sighs. “Fine, but we’re not Medical, and they should probably see him.”

Q raises a brow, but decides she has a point, and stoops and picks up James, slinging him over one shoulder like a spasmodically twitching bag of flour. One upside of being a Nephalem is that he’s significantly stronger than a human his size would be. At least Medical should be happy that James can’t escape before they’re through with him this time. Even James isn’t going to be able to drag himself out of Medical before a day passes after being hit with the force of Q’s dual Wrath, even one barely above the default non-lethal setting.

He’d been concerned about the magical poison resisting or even accelerating if he used too low of power, but he hadn’t wanted to blow the entire electrical system in the building either. Taking MI-6 entirely down, even for a few hours would endanger other agents he’s responsible for, after all. Killing James directly had been less of a concern; Q has healed him enough times to be familiar with his physiology and knows that it would take a deliberately lethal outpouring of Wrath to outright kill him. Those vague supernatural genes are good for something. His moronic agent is moronically tough.

Or maybe not so moronic.

Why _is_ he here, anyways?

James really doesn’t have a reason to come home at this stage of the mission. By normal logic, he’d have stayed on mission and died there of unknown causes. There has been no orders to return. Much less report to Q. Either James had really wanted to prove he could bring back a weapon in working order, or he’d subconsciously known there was something terribly wrong.

On his shoulder, James manages a thin whine. Q sighs. “No, I’m not mad at you. You did well, pet, in coming to me. And I appreciate you bringing the gun back. But please, _please_ , be more careful in the future. I wasn’t kidding about that being lethal to the touch. Lesser Sand Dragon saliva is a magical poison. You might not have been seeing physical symptoms yet, but physical symptoms are the last stage of a very nasty death.”

Q swears as James attempts to move and almost sends them both toppling over.

“Knock it off, _pet_. I’m taking you to Medical, and you will stay there until I give you permission to leave.” He says in mild annoyance after regaining his balance.

A staff member from one of the other departments is passing them in the hall just then, and gives them a wide-eyed look at hearing that. He isn’t sure if that’s because he’s carrying James Bond, badass 00 agent, because he’s called him ‘pet’ in public, or because of James’ notoriety at escaping Medical before being released. Maybe a combination of all of the above. Whatever. Let them gossip.

James is his. He spares his pride because he wants to, not because he has to. His pride will just have to weather this, because he’s not letting his _really very stupid_ agent’s health suffer just to spare his pride a little. If James wanted his pride spared, he should have thought twice before touching a gun liberally coated with a highly toxic poison _with his bare hands_.

Medical is not pleased to see them.

Ecstatic would be the wrong word.

In fact, traumatized might cover it. But that doesn’t account for several expressions of unmitigated glee when they realize there is no chance of Bond walking out or making their lives particularly difficult for at least the next 16hrs. It’s really until he says so, because he knows James won’t disobey a direct order when there’s nothing else involved, but he doesn’t want to totally turn their minds to discombobulated mush _before_ they give James a thorough check-over.

Q stays to make sure they do. Though mostly because James looks more traumatized than they do before he manages to hide it somewhat despite his body’s lack of cooperation. James doesn’t seem to be bothered when they undress him and put him in scrubs, but then he’s not a particularly modest man. He does seem disconcerted as the doctor clucks over the greenish poison marks that cover most of his body, having been brought to the surface in the wake of the cure, but stays settled as Q’s hands stroke his short hair throughout the process. More than one nurse sneaks little glances at that, as if it’s an unexplainable phenomenon.

If this is always how they treat 00 agents, Q can understand why James and Alec always escape at first opportunity. It’s appalling. His fingers tighten unthinkingly until James rolls his eyes up at him in question. He forces himself to relax. Maybe he’ll let James out of here after 24hrs. But not before. James came entirely too close to dying horribly today for his taste.

Entirely too close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dying by Lesser Sand Dragon 'venom' is a horrible, horrible way to go. Q honestly didn't know if he had minutes or seconds to spare before the last stage kicked in. He _could_ have resurrected James afterwards, but he would have had to watch him die first. A few computers were judged an acceptable sacrifice to avoid that.
> 
> Poor James, he just wanted to show Q that he could bring back a weapon in working condition, and didn't even think twice about retrieving it and bringing it back. A very careless slip up for any spy, and he really should have known better. On the other hand, the Lesser Sand Dragons are marginally less aggressive than Komodos and there was only one in the pit. Not that he knows enough about either critter to be able to tell them apart on sight.  
> He really couldn't say why he turned around and came home to see Q. He could've gone after Severine and seduced her, but just didn't. Maybe she was a bit young for his tastes then?  
> He's a bit annoyed when M informs him that the mission is being reassigned to someone else, even though it's a fairly minor one.
> 
> Yes, I am one of those terrible authors who thinks that a world with supernatural peoples should have supernatural predators too.
> 
> You've probably all noted this by now, but I tend to go back and add to notes later.


	12. Toy-pillow thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q encounters 003

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Works inspired by this one: [Q's Grandpa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984146)

Q is returning from spending more than forty minutes in Medical, keeping James calm while the doctor and nurses finished doing all the tests needed. He is going to have to go with Alec one of these times and see if they treat him as much like a dangerous curiosity as they do James or not. If so, he’s going to have a little talk with HR and have something done about it.  
  
His agents are not tigers in a zoo.

He walks past one of the lounges kept for staff and agents and is several steps past before it registers that he’s seen something out of place. His mouth tightens as he halts and then his shoulders slump slightly in resignation. Apparently it was too much to ask to get back to Q-branch without something else to deal with. It’s probably nothing big, but he knows that many of the staff are too intimidated by the 00s to offer help, and really, the 00s _are_ his agents, even though only two are his pets.

Straightening his shoulders, he walks back to the lounge doorway and looks in.

Roan Fitch, 003, is sitting on one of the sleek couches, a stuffed toy spilling stuffing all over the floor in one hand, looking heart broken. It is a disconcerting expression to see on the tall redhead, whose usual state of being seems to be bad tempered. The minions avoid him like the plague, and he has a reputation for being mean for no apparent reason.

That doesn’t stop him from being a devastatingly efficient agent, though. And he’s at least intelligent enough to have always treated Q with distant politeness, regardless of any opinion of him he might have.

Q steps inside, closing the door behind him, because that expression isn’t something just anyone should witness. “What is the problem?”

003 barely glances at him, dark green eyes glossy with a sheen of tears that makes the pale amber flakes around the center glow white-gold as he stares at the ruined toy, which Q is not entirely sure whether is a sheep or an owl. It is covered in white curls, but seems to have wing-like appendages on its back, though the drooping makes it a bit difficult to tell.

“It broke. I got it because it’s supposed to be soft, but it wasn’t soft enough so I was trying to make it softer and then the seam broke.” He says sadly.

A scrutinizing glance at the stuffing on the floor is enough to confirm that it too has disintegrated beyond usefulness, and Q recalls that 003 has some Chaos demon in his heritage. No wonder the toy gave up the battle. And if his way of coping with being a 00 is to surround himself with super soft things… Q grimaces in sympathy. “Do you care what it looks like?”

003 shakes his head dolefully.

“Give it here.” He holds out his hand expectantly, and is rather surprised when Roan blinks at him, then hands it over without protest. Then, because he is _not_ going to walk through the building with a pathetic toy in his hand, he creates a _door_ to Q-branch, which exits near his office, in the far wall of the lounge and strides through. It’s a matter of minutes for him to use his office _door_ to go home and transfer the wings on the toy to a misshapen pillow stuffed with gray feathers and return. And, ok, it’s a _pillow_ , so it’s sort of tube shaped, and the stitches are ugly, and the wings look funny on it, even funnier than on the original toy, but it’s _soft_ and it’s _white_ and it will take more than a human with a bit of Chaos demon in him to accidentally kill it while cuddling it.

He offers it to 003, who takes it with a curious expression, then looks pleased after testing the squeeze and softness of it.

“I see why 006 and 007 like you.” 003 states in his deep, rough voice that always has a surprising musical lilt to it that’s not entirely accent. “They’re afraid of you too, though. I don’t know why, since you said you aren’t a demon.”

Taken off guard, Q snorts. “Well, I’m not. But I am a Nephalem with a temper. I don’t like it when they come home with holes in them.” He gestures at the toy-pillow thing. “That won’t break or get lost, by the way, so you don’t have to be extra careful to keep it from breaking. You can even send it through the wash without a problem.”

Sharp interest abruptly lights 003’s eyes and his long fingered, lightly scarred hands flex again on the toy, although his gaze stays on Q. “These are you feathers? Can I see? And can just anyone use that _door_ , or just you? I hate walking between Medical and Q-branch after a mission.”

Q considers. “Not just anyone, but I can leave it in place for you, I suppose. As long as you don’t use it to frighten my minions. 006 and 007 will probably want to use it too.”

003 doesn’t react beyond a small nod, still staring at him expectantly.  
  
Oh, right.

He shows his wings. Then takes an involuntary step back as 003 stands without warning. At 6’2, 003 is the tallest of the 00s, and he looms a bit in close proximity.

“Can I touch?”

Which is how he ends up sitting on a barely comfortable couch in an MI-6 lounge, taking a much-needed nap with his wings spread over the back of said couch while 003 pets them with a reverence most people save for beloved lovers or beautiful exotic creatures.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After which, 003, 006 and 007 manage to give Q-branch a few heart attacks by apparently materializing out of the wall until the minions realize that Q must have set up a _door_ for them.
> 
> Not too long thereafter, some of the minions notice that 003 has left off being nasty to Q-branch folks although other staff are apparently still fair game.
> 
> A couple months later, a shy and slightly overweight minion by the name of Sarah finds herself alone in a club after the friend who dragged her there abandons her to go home with some guy, and more than a little uncomfortable at the attention she is receiving from a couple of men.  
> She almost faints as someone else slips a strong arm around her from behind and she recognizes the terrifyingly sharp-tongued 003 as he says, "I fail to see why you think she'd be interested in you, when she's with me. Even with two of you, the pair of you seem a bit...undermanned."  
> There is no fight, but it's a close thing. The men bothering her wisely back off, however, after considering 003's shark-like smile. Grateful, and a little too terrified to try to slip away from him, she ends up unwillingly plastered to 003's side for the rest of the evening.  
> He then puts her in his car, hands her a very strange but very soft thing she thinks is a toy, and drops her off at her flat.  
> Sarah's not sure what to do with the ugly-cute toy-thing since he doesn't ask for it back, and ends up taking it to work, where Q sees it and comments, "Make sure you give that back to 003."  
> She does the next time she sees him, and is rewarded with a brilliant smile she had no idea he possessed, and which leaves several minions who chance to see it staring in shock.


	13. Just Before Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond is out of Medical without permission.

It is 6:44 am when Bond totters through the new _door_ , giving it a slightly wild eyed look as he finds himself in Q-branch.

Q’s hands pause on the keys.

Bond doesn’t spend more than a few seconds on startlement, however, before reorienting himself and making his way to Q’s office.

It is early. Early enough that night shift are just starting to stir at their stations in preparation for handing off to morning shift, and R isn’t in yet. Q is only in this early due to the impromptu 5 hour nap induced by 003’s petting of his wings session. Everyone had assumed he was still in Medical with Bond and nothing had required his presence, so he hadn’t woken until 003 had been called by M for a mission report and had gently shaken him awake before going.

More importantly, it’s only 16 hours and seven minutes past when he’d forcibly taken Bond to Medical. Given Bond’s current pace and his shortcut through the new _door_ _(which is a reminder that Bond can actually feel magic well enough to tell what it does more or less; apparently he can feel it well enough to be drawn by it)_ , he’d left Medical at precisely 16 hours. He doesn’t look up as Bond enters his office.  “I do not believe I’ve given you permission to leave Medical yet.”

“You said 16 hours.” Bond retorts. And wow, there’s enough whine in there to outdo a 3 year old.

“Indeed. I told _them_ 16 hours. I told _you_ to stay put until I said otherwise.” Q answers coolly, because 007 is a little too fond of getting his own way and this verges on outright disobedience.

Bond falters. “Please, Q?”

Q looks up, face hard. “You almost _died_ , James. There is a reason I told you to stay put. Is there a _reason_ you’re disobeying me? Because at this rate, you’re going to end up sedated and on a fluids drip for the next week.”

Something like panic crosses Bond’s face, swiftly suppressed, but it’s clear he’s not his usual calm self.

His tone turns almost sobbing. “I- I’m not. I- _Please, you said 16 hours! I’ll stay here and do whatever you want. Sleep on the floor or whatever. Just, please don’t- **don’t-**_ ”

Q sits back and steeples his fingers, regarding him in silence for a minute. But James just stands there, shaking slightly, the unsightly green marks from the poison, which have not yet begun to fade, making him look as if he was beaten badly and only half healed up. It makes his stomach churn to see it.

“Tell me.” He relents.

James swallows. “They expect me to flirt. And… It’s Medical. They don’t always keep their hands to themselves. I mean. I don’t hate it, but I can’t sleep. Can’t rest.”

In other words, he can’t trust Medical to be professional and not molest him. Q’s lips tighten. He is definitely going to have _words_ with HR.

The 00s are MI-6’s powerhouse weapons, the swords that strike where lesser agents cannot survive. Most years, the death rate for 00 agents is more than twice that for ordinary agents, but it’s rare that they don’t get the job done even as they fall. They, most of all, deserve to have a place to recover in safety. A place they can _trust_ to only have their best interests in mind.

In his rather short reign as Quartermaster, he hasn’t lost a 00 yet, but he knows it’s only a matter of time. James would’ve died half a dozen times already without the intervention of the collar, and Alec at least once. Several of the others have survived only by sheer, unadulterated luck.

He sighs, and pulls James’ kneeling pillow out of a drawer. “Alright, pet, you may stay. But if you get notions of doing anything except resting, be assured, such notions will receive punishment.”

James nods jerkily and hurries around the desk with a gait that lacks all of his normal grace. Like a dog afraid of being yelled at or hit.

Q carefully does not grimace. Instead, he waits until James goes to his knees, and then lays a gentle hand on his head. It does not have the intended effect, as James remains stiff and tense. A glance confirms that James has frozen up, his eyes slightly glazed and his intelligence out to lunch, so to speak. He must have been fighting it off before, explaining the too-open panic and the willingness to beg.

Fantastic. Only James can give him unintended guilt trips over doing the right thing.

“Easy, pet. Any punishment will not include Medical.” He soothes, smoothing his hand over the short, soft, blond bristles until James’ slightly ragged breathing evens out and his eyes turn sleepy rather than blank.

“Q, are-?” R pauses at the threshold, noting his expression, then backs out, quietly closing the door.

Q takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He doesn’t know who broke James this badly, but if he ever finds out… Well. Normally he represses his dark side. But that only means that he _has_ a dark side. Because, yes, he’s a quarter Angel, but he’s also almost a quarter Fae and a full half Demon.

With his free hand, he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand.

James is his. No one gets to break what is his with impunity. But those are thoughts for the future, and the present is of more concern at the moment.

Maybe he can’t go after the damned lizard, but Medical is another story. For now, he needs to just calm down before Alec wanders in and decides to go break Medical in person. Because Medical will hardly be cooperative about being officially eviscerated if Alec literally breaks bones and bloodies noses first. And Alec _will_ , because James was his first, and that hasn’t changed even though they’re both Q’s now.

_Calm thoughts!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, imagine the expression that made the usually fearless R retreat without a word.
> 
> No, Q won't find out who 'broke' James, or even if it was anyone's fault at all, that doesn't stop him from occasionally being furious over it.
> 
> Within the month, a full third of the Medical staff is replaced, and others are reprimanded for unprofessional conduct. M finds out and the entire Medical staff are then required to attend refresher classes on sexual harassment and other forms of harassment.  
>  _(I'm not sure how England's medical system works, but I've worked in a nursing home before, and refresher meetings on what can be interpreted as harassment were required every six months even for non-medical staff. So, I'm extrapolating. And yes, I really think one wouldn't want to be treated by a medical staff that didn't have at least periodic reminders. As amazing as their jobs are, they're only human and need reminders that it's not all about patient privilege and patients who abuse that, it's about patient rights too.)_
> 
> Be sure to read the lovely bit of fluff SectorDweller wrote in this world, about Jersey tracking down his angelic grandfather to share the pain of Heidi's recital.  
> Here: [Q's Grandpa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984146)


	14. Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James does not expect belief

James feels terrible.

He hates Medical; he’ll take Q’s sadistic brand of healing any day of the week and weekends as well rather than visit Medical.

In the past he’s been shot, stabbed, bitten _(by women and once by a wild dog),_ and poisoned. But that’s not why he hates Medical. The doctors themselves are tolerable, if a tad annoying. And the on-call Nephilim who works with MI-6 is a sweet, happily married woman that he’s fine with. What he’s not fine with is how some of the other medical staff act towards him. As if how he acts with women he likes (he _likes women_ , okay?), and acts with the women he seduces in the course of his missions should carry over to him fulfilling their little fantasies and being happy about insinuating looks when he’s in pain, exhausted, and supposedly under professional medical care.

If it was just that, he could deal with it. But some of them use their position to give unnecessary, flirty little touches, just subtle enough to keep from being spotted by someone not looking for it. He detests it, that, them. But even that isn’t what sends him fleeing from Medical at first chance every time. It’s the few who think it’s okay to be a little bolder that make him jump at shadows and outright fear closing his eyes in Medical if they’re on shift.

He’d tried, once, to report it to HR. Once. Tried being the key word.

But how to explain to a skeptical office worker that _‘the new nurse’s assistant put her hand on my cock and I’m afraid she’s going to try to rape me if she ever has me alone for more than five minutes and she’s creeping me the hell out’_ without sounding like some nervous virgin, and ridiculous and hypocritical in the extreme? So, while he’d been frozen up trying to come up with some version of that that didn’t sound like whining, HR had decided that he really was there to just make trouble for Medical because everyone already knew he hates being trapped there.

He’d never tried again.

So he doesn’t expect Q to believe him after he’s escaped Medical against direct orders _(yes, he’s aware that the ’16 hrs’ wasn’t directed at him)_ and Q chooses to challenge him on it rather than letting it slide. He really doesn’t. But he’s aware of two things. First, Q is possessive and James being injured sets off that instinct, and right now James looks like hell. Second, Q seems to have a radar for lies and _doesn’t trust_ people who try it, and gives them immediate short shrift as a result.

And he’s right. It gives Q pause. However, he wasn’t expecting Q to demand clarification and trap him between admitting outright disobedience and trying, once again, to let someone know the truth. He’s left with no choice at all; he tells the truth and waits to be told that he’s simply inventing trouble again.

Waits.

A complicated expression seats itself on Q’s face and finally he sighs and bends long enough to open a drawer and pull out the dark blue pillow he keeps for James to kneel on. “Alright, pet, you may stay. But if you get notions of doing anything except resting, be assured, such notions will receive punishment.”

The relief at not having to go back is staggering, but he’s well aware that ‘punishment’ doesn’t _preclude_ having to go back, aware that Q’s sigh likely means he’s simply being humored, not believed. It cuts deep. But he’s not about to pass up his chance to avoid Medical when he’s been told he can stay away. He hurriedly kneels before Q can change his mind, showing off his willingness to obey, losing the battle against his traitorous brain even as he drops to his knees with an ungainly jolt.

Distantly, he feels Q’s hand on his head, but it’s not soothing. It’s just there, not anchoring. He’s lost his moorings, and even Q can’t help, because despite his best intentions, Q doesn’t-

“Easy, pet. Any punishment will not include Medical.”

Oh.

He knows that tone. Q’s touch _(petting if he’s honest, but he refuses to be)_ becomes the cleat hitch that moors him back to the dock of reality and functionality.

Vaguely he’s aware of R’s entrance and swift exit followed by the door shutting firmly, but doesn’t care. Whatever she’s seen doesn’t matter. It makes no dent in his lassitude, born of exhaustion _(he’d like to see someone **not** be exhausted after getting ‘cured’ by way of having excessive magic forced throughout their body)_ and dazed relief _( ~~someone~~ Q actually believes him!)_

At some point, Q shakes him awake a little, and he realizes that he’s managed to half sprawl into Q’s lap despite still kneeling, his head and arms pillowed on trousered thighs. He obediently answers questions about Medical and its denizens while Q speaks to someone about it on the phone in competent tones. But it doesn’t really manage to rouse him, and his one attempt to sit back and relieve Q of his weight is swiftly aborted by Q’s hand curling around his nape.

James sinks back into sleep when the questions end. Content that Q is ruining someone’s life and it isn’t his.

He does rouse (briefly) when the office door opens and admits a dangerous entity, but then he realizes that it’s just 003, who is Alec’s friend by way of _‘sometimes beat the hell out of each other for fun’_ and his tone as Q speaks to him is entirely respectful and maybe a little friendly, and really, James can’t be arsed to wake up enough to bristle about someone he can trust with his life if he’s not hassling Q.

Not that hassling Q is a particularly rewarding endeavor.

At best, one comes off neither a loser nor a winner in those exchanges.

Though, it is rather funny to see Alec and others try.

He drifts back to sleep, faintly amused.

James is considerably less amused later, when he discovers that Q’s definition of ‘not doing anything’ until he recovers means that he’s not allowed to walk anywhere, and he’s required to allow Q _(or Alec, or 003, or anyone else passing by who is strong enough to actually bear his weight)_ to carry him to and from the nearest restroom. It’s hideously embarrassing.

He chooses to pretend it was his own idea.

Not even the minions are fooled.

It’s still better than being left at the mercy of Medical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know. It insisted, then refused to explain itself.
> 
> The canonical 007 probably wouldn't have had any issues with Medical, for one reason or another.  
> James gets a little hung up on the fact that being afraid of being molested by someone he could break in half on reflex is highly ironic. He was raised old-school, with the assumption that only women are the victims of sexual harassment, so it's a bit surprising he actually tried to report it in the first place.  
> HR wasn't actually trying to be dismissive, it's just that he never got out enough information to indicate an actual problem before getting hung up and trailing off for long enough for it to be assumed he just had nothing else to say. Despite how obvious it is to Q and Alec that James is broken in places, it's really _not_ obvious to others. There's no particular reason for HR to assume "I want to complain about Medical..." had anything to do with sexual harassment.  
>  Uhhh... I feel like I'm beating this subject into the ground. Not my intent. Um. Well, this is probably as close as I'm going to get to a 'Q coming down on HR and Medical like the wrath of God' scene. Moving on...


	15. R plots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's probably Irene one should watch out for, not Q...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently on hiatus.  
> I do intend to come back and write more; this is not abandoned, I promise. I even have several of the scenes loosely planned out. But the muse is being a bitch, and I apologize for her.

R is the first to notice.

Not the strange _door_ apparently connected to 003’s favorite lounge, the one everyone else avoided when he was home from missions because being in a room with Roan Fitch is a foolproof way to have one’s ego shredded. Some of the techies _(or minions, as Q half the time absentmindedly calls them)_ note that, with gaspy little shrieks of alarm the first few times.

Not that 003 is being strangely solicitous _(a.k.a. leaving them out of his ego shredding hobby)_ of the techies; that comes back with various rumors and baffled Q-branch denizens.

Fitch has only turned his sharp tongue on her _once_. Largely due to the fact that pissing off a master hacker with a vengeful streak is the kind of thing even a 00 is wary of repeating. In the space of five hours, he’d found himself homeless, his accounts frozen, and arrested on suspicion of murder of some housewife he’d never met. R could admit that it might have been a bit vindictive to leave him there for four days before relenting and springing him from lockup by presenting proof that he’d been out of the country, but it had gotten her point across quite nicely. He’d been careful to be polite to _her_ ever since.

Not even that 003 is showing up in Q-branch when he doesn’t need to. The minions note that first, because they’re scared of him.

No, what she notes first is that his interactions with Q have taken a subtle but distinct shift.

003 is not so much showing up at _Q-branch_ , as he is showing up to hang around _Q_. Which Q _allows._ Much in the same way that he ignores Trevelyan and Bond, he tolerates Fitch. It makes enough sense on Fitch’s part that no one questions it. After all, Q is one of the few people who is both smart enough and physically tough enough _(despite his apparent disdain for anything resembling exercise beyond typing)_ to have no reason to fear a 00. Q fears no one, not even 0012 _(Simon Griebe)_ , who is the hands-down creepiest non-criminal, mentally stable human R has ever met in her life.  
  
And it’s no secret that 00s have a tendency to show up to annoy people who aren’t afraid of them. It's why R sometimes ends up with 001 _(Dela Creed)_ or 0011 _(Cassia Thorne)_ perched on the edge of her desk, fiddling with pens and things and/or talking to her. And why Eve Moneypenny gets dragged out to bars, restaurants, and clubs _(or even church if Griebe is around)_ by very bored 00s. 

At first, R assumes that Fitch showing up more often is connected to that odd thing with Bond being poisoned followed by Q conspiring with HR to gut Medical of its less professional members. But it doesn’t really fit. To begin with, Fitch shows up almost exclusively when Q is at the work station he uses when keeping a finger on the pulse of Q-branch is more useful than being in his office, where classified things are dealt with. And while Fitch usually stays within a certain radius of Q for the span of time he lurks in Q-branch, he doesn’t try much to interact with him. Neither is Q impatient of his presence. Which is strange, because Q has a quite limited tolerance for people doing literally nothing while hovering in his immediate vicinity.

R has seen Fitch, more than once, bite back words to various techies, which would undoubtedly have sent some of them into tears. It’s no stretch to conclude that the _door_ and permission to be around Q without being ejected from the area sans pity, is a bargain contingent on Fitch not being cruel to the Q-branch denizens.

The day that Fitch strides in looking _off_ enough that the minions scatter away on reflex to stay out of range is when R takes note.

Q looks up briefly, alerted by the abnormal abandonment of workstations near him, and then goes back to his work, apparently unbothered. R knows better, though. His body language has shifted from _‘I am not paying any active attention’,_ to the _‘I am ignoring you until you work up your nerve and tell me what you need’_ posture reserved for Bond and Trevelyan and certain overly-skittish minions.

It is telling. And it perks her attention.

This time, Fitch goes right up to Q, moves as if to put his hand on his shoulder, then hesitates, hand hovering until Q looks up again.

“May I?”

Apparently there is more to the request than it appears, because Q swivels his chair to gaze at him for a moment, then nods and gets up. He tosses her a glance that means _‘take over’_ , and they leave through that new _door_.

It is a full _three hours_ later before Q returns, looking… R’s not quite certain. Refreshed? Relaxed? Rested. Yes, that’s it. Whatever 003 had wanted from him, it has resulted in her workaholic boss taking a much needed break without having it forced on him.

_Excellent._

Rubbing her mental hands together, she makes immediate plans to drag enough information out of Fitch to be able to plot Q into the proverbial corner and make him rest at need without having to expend excessive effort. _Every. Single. Time._ Because, frankly, she has better things to do with her time than traumatize the wimpier minions by getting them to nag Q into ten minute breaks and food.

Fortunately Q is weak to pathetic people, but she actually has a rotation worked out to minimize the stress on the more faint of heart. Granted, only because the Psych department had called her in and discussed the amount of stress she was putting them under, throwing around words like ‘ulcers’ and ‘medications’ and ‘lowers job efficiency’. But she _does_ have one.

She knows that it will only take a couple suspiciously timed entrances of Fitch and his requests for Q to figure out what’s going on, but she’s not concerned about that. He plays along with the minion rotation, even if he’s not appreciative of it.

Possibly because she’d threatened to get M to weigh in on the matter if he didn’t, but that’s beside the point. He’ll be much happier catering to a 00’s needs _(even if they’re not strictly needs every time)_ than he is about traumatizing his minions.

Now…, she just needs to find out if the phenomenon is Fitch-specific, or if she can use other 00s when he’s not around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R's name is Irene Sangster _(she finally has a name!),_ because yes, it struck me as funny and weirdly appropriate for a master hacker, and SectorDweller egged me on, so now she has _Wild Thing_ by the Troggs as something she hums when she's being all happily hackerish.  
>  _~Wild thang, you make my heart sing~_
> 
> Roan's careful politeness towards Q is probably partially due to his earlier run-in with R. He might just be the teensiest bit scared spitless of her. _(Good thing she thinks being a criminal would be a dead bore, eh?)_
> 
> The housewife was murdered by her husband's lover, who was under the misimpression that she was refusing to accept a divorce. It was just a case R picked at random, because the immediate evidence was quite sketchy and the timing was right.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Q's Grandpa](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984146) by [SectorDweller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SectorDweller/pseuds/SectorDweller)




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